A SUPER CHRISTMAS
by Pony R
Summary: Okay, so I've always wondered what Christmas is like for Superman. A little joy, a little angst, a LOT of fun. And even a little mayhem! This is, finally, the last chapter. Happy New Year to all of you who've enjoyed this story. Thanks...!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **All the characters and most places belong to DC comics, not me etc...

A SUPER CHRISTMAS

by Pony R.

It was the evening of the day before Christmas Eve. Unlike almost every other day of the year, the bullpen of The Daily Planet was almost totally empty of people. It was almost eerie. Like you might expect a tumbleweed to blow through the large room. It was nearly 8PM, and the only two people left on the City Room floor were Perry White, Editor-In-Chief of the greatest newspaper in Metropolis, who was in his glassed-in office, and Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for said great metropolitan newspaper. It seemed the impending holiday was giving Superman a respite.

Perry had been watching Clark for some time, now, although the Kryptonian wasn't aware of it. Clark was trying to finish up on a story that had been bedeviling him for the last week, and actually relished being here without the distractions of the usual crowd of coworkers.

Without the distraction of Lois.

Clark was just putting a final paragraph on his story, when he heard Perry's door open, followed by the man's gruff voice: "Kent, everybody's been gone for the Holidays since this afternoon. Why are you still here?"

Clark looked up from his desk, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Perry had seen him do that so many times before starting to speak to people, that he secretly dubbed it, 'The Kent Maneuver.'

"Gee, Mr. White, I just wanted to take the opportunity to get this as close to finished as possible before Christmas," Clark explained.

"Clark, come in here for a minute, would you?"

As he rose to comply, it suddenly hit Clark that Perry had called him 'Clark,' not his usual 'Kent.' Entering The Chief's office, Perry gestured to one of the stuffed brown leather chairs in the room. Clark sat, wondering what was on his boss' mind.

"Clark, a while back I picked up a nice Chardonnay while I was visiting California. I'd be honored if you'd have a drink with me," he intoned while producing a couple of wine glasses from a cabinet along one wall.

"Uh, gee, Mr. White... uhh, okay," Clark stammered. Perry White was many things, but gregarious was not usually one of them.

"Clark, I've always prided myself on giving my reporters the opportunity to express themselves without interference, beyond that which is a part of the editing process and within certain stylistic bounds. And I've tried to allow my friends... the few true friends I have... the space they need to live their own lives without judgement from me."

Clark couldn't begin to imagine where this was going, so he merely kept quiet, and took a sip of the wine Perry had poured. Smooth, slightly woody. Nice, delicate aftertaste.

"I know how hard your job can be, Clark. I've been there. I want you to know that you are respected around here for the high-quality of writing and investigating you do. Lois has definitely rubbed-off on your work." The old man looked at his wine for a moment, as if he was working-up the guts to say something difficult. Clark hoped this wasn't where the boss gives him the arm-around-the-shoulder treatment before firing him.

"It pains me to have to watch you struggling with your little balancing act every day."

Clark looked slightly askance at The Chief. What exactly was the man trying to say?

"I normally don't hand out Christmas gifts to my reporters. But, after knowing you for the last year or so, I just wanted to do something for you. In exchange for all you've done for us."

"Well, gee, Mr. White..." Clark started to gush.

"That's part of the problem. Man, don't you think it's about time you dropped the 'Mister' all the time and just called me Perry? You've certainly earned the right." Perry was staring Clark right in the eye, now.

All Clark could come up with was, "Well, I do love my work..."

"That's not what I mean, and I think you know it. But, one of us has to go first, so I'll do it. I can only try to imagine how lonely you must be in this world. I just want you to know that..." Perry seemed to actually be screwing-up his resolve. Clark actually found himself nervous, for real. Not the Clark Kent persona nervousness. But, _really_ nervous.

"...That you don't have to sneak out of here in the elevator shafts anymore." Perry finished, his eyes never leaving Clark's. The younger man looked like he was about to drop his glass. He started to sputter, and his trademark grin began to spread across his face, and Perry could tell Clark was gearing-up to try to salvage his cover. Perry held up a hand for silence.

"Clark, I realized your secret... Superman's secret, a while back. I'm not trying to out you, here. I just thought that if you knew you could be yourself with me, it might make things... that little bit less complicated. I can't imagine what being a superhero is like. But, I've watched you since I first met you, Clark. You are the kind of man I'm proud to have on my staff. Not just because you're Superman. As a whole person, you've been a pleasure to know. And... well, I never did get to properly thank you for saving my life when that globe fell. So, thank you... And, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

With that, Perry White stood and offered his hand to Clark, who after a stunned moment, stood as well, all pretense of 'bumbling' Clark gone. He shook Perry's hand with warmth and affection, and almost had to fight back tears. What an amazing relief it was to be able to truly be himself in the presence of a man whom Clark had admired from the start. Perry raised his glass, and Clark did the same. With a clink, they touched, and both men drank deeply.

"Wow," Clark sighed, sitting back down.

"Yeah," Perry agreed. "Can I ask you a question, though? It's personal, so if you don't want to answer..."

"Please, go right ahead," Clark smiled.

"Are you ever going to tell Lois? You know how she feels about, well... you."

Clark Kent leaned toward Perry, and almost in a conspiratorial way, replied, "She already knows."

"Really?" Perry gasped. He had no idea Lois was 'in the loop.'

Clark smiled at the memory of the day he'd revealed his identity to her. "Yeah, and she almost killed me with her shoe!" Both men chuckled heartily at the image of Lois Lane and her Flying-Heels-Of-Death coming after Superman. "Let's just say I kept about 10 feet above her for a few days, just out of striking range!" Perry laughed out loud at that. The image was just too savory.

"Well, considering that we're sort of baring it all...you might not know this, but Jason is my son," Clark added.

Perry was looking into his glass. "That somehow makes perfect sense. Did you know she was pregnant before you left?" There was no judgement in his voice, though Clark wouldn't have blamed the old man if he'd called Clark a bastard and threw him out of the building.

"Believe me, Chief, if I had known that, I would NEVER have left. And, no matter how much I regret it, I'll still never have those first five years with him. As far as I'm concerned, I may be his father, but Richard will always be his Dad."

Both men were silent for a moment, until Perry White muttered, "You're truly a good man, Clark Kent."

With a lump in his throat, Clark looked at his boss. The Chief. The Great Gray Mastodon of The city's greatest newspaper. "You have no idea how honored I am by your words. Thank you. For everything, Chief."

The older man rose, as did Clark. Shaking hands with the Kryptonian one more time, he stated, "No, once again... thank you. And, by the way, if ever there's an emergency you need to cover, and you have to get out quick, you can always use my window! But, one last thing..."

Clark finished his wine with a last swallow. "Yes, sir?"

Eyes twinkling, Perry White went for the last word: "Don't call me 'Chief!'"


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **All the characters and most places belong to DC comics, not me etc...

**A/N:**_ To all you great folks who've offered such supportive reviews, thanks! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the first chapter, and honored to be asked for more. So, here's the next chapter! Be warned, it's a touch racy in one spot, with a reference to unusual sexuality, but hopefully not offensive nor graphic. And, don't ask what presents Clark has wrapped under his tree. You'll have to wait for Christmas morning to find out...!_

Shortly after their conversation in his office, Perry had left for the holiday, leaving Clark to wrap up his story. After another hour, Clark closed his computer down and left the building.

A few minutes later, Superman was flying quietly over Metropolis, engaging in his almost nightly ritual of patrol. But, tonight, the night before Christmas Eve, felt... different. Kind of...peaceful. For Metropolis, that is. He could still hear the many cars, busses, the subway trains, the people, and all the other myriad noises that wove themselves into the audio tapestry that was like a heartbeat of the city. As he glided between the concrete canyons, passed along the waterfront, and cruised over Centennial Park, he marveled at the lack of chills down his spine. His sensitivity shell was well-extended, and he got none of the inner tickle that warned him that something was up.

It was as if the whole of Metropolis was actually going to enjoy the Holidays with as little mayhem as necessary.

And then he heard the shots.

Gunshots. Coming from Centennial Park! Sounded like small arms fire, maybe a .30 caliber handgun. Stretching out, he put on a quick burst of speed, and within 0.06 seconds he was only a few yards from the area where the shots had seemed to originate. Strange that he hadn't actually seen any muzzle flashes...

He was on the ground in an instant, in a clearing where there were two men standing about twenty-five feet apart from each other. As he approached the nearest man, he saw that the man was holding not a gun, as he had initially suspected from the sounds, but a bullwhip. He looked over at the other fellow, who was in his mid-teens, and saw he, too, was carrying a bullwhip similar to the one the first man held. For a moment, all three just stared at each other. The two guys were looking surprised at the sudden interruption until they recognized the familiar blue-and-red uniform.

"Superman!" the older one exclaimed. "Is everything okay?"

Looking at both of them as he approached, the Man of Steel paused a few feet away, and replied in his rich baritone, "I was going to ask you the same thing. What's going on here?"

"Nothing. My son and I..." he gestured toward the teenager, who was slowly getting closer, with a look on his face like he was not really sure this was actually happening, "are practicing with our whips."

"Practicing with whips?" Superman repeated, then began to chuckle. He could see from the guys' relaxed posture, as well as their heartbeats and their expressions, that they weren't lying or trying to cover-up any covert actions.

"Well, yeah! I've been working with whips as a hobby ever since RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK came out," the man explained in a proud, yet matter-of-fact manner. "Oh, my God, where are my manners? Uh, Superman, my name is Joe, and this is my son, David." The man extended his hand, and The Kryptonian shook it with a smile. He then shook the teenager's hand. The boy looked like he was trying to speak, but couldn't seem to get the words out. _Not an unusual reaction_, thought Clark.

"Bullwhips, huh? May I have a look?"

With an expression of pride, the man handed over his whip. The superhero held it respectfully, looking it over with a critical eye. "I haven't seen one of these in years. I hear Catwoman down in Gotham uses one."

The man looked stunned. "Really! I hope you don't think we're using these to hurt people or anything... we just love to come out here and pop whips." The man spoke with a twang that betrayed an upbringing in West Texas.

"Oh, no! I didn't think that at all," Superman responded quickly. "This looks like a high-quality piece of work."

"Oh, yes sir. Kangaroo hide, 12-plait, American-style bullwhip. Heavily-loaded for balance. It's the same design used in the INDIANA JONES films." The man was obviously quite proud of his sport and its tools. He gestured to his son, who handed him the whip he had been holding. Clark saw that this one was slightly different from the first whip. It was two-toned, cream and brown, with a longer handle and no extra weight.

"This one is an Australian-style targeting whip. More for use doing cutting tricks. It's lighter than this other whip, and is also faster and more accurate. But for delivering a heavy blow, the Indiana Jones is the better choice."

Superman could feel their enthusiasm. "Let's see you crack it," he said to the youngster.

"Cool!' said the teen, moving off to a safe distance. Holding the whip, which was about 10 feet long, in his right hand, he faced his father and Superman. He swung his arm out and over his head in a circle, the whip following overhead horizontally, like a helicopter rotor blade. As his arm came back to the starting point, the boy suddenly pulled it backwards along his right side, and BOOM! Superman actually flinched, startled by the level of volume produced, very much like a small gunshot. Before he could react any further, BOOM! came again as the boy reversed direction as the whip came onto it's backswing. _BOOM, BOOM, BOOM_ at a pace of about 2-3 cracks per second, the boy was keeping the whip in the air with the skill of an old-time muleskinner. His face glowed with an ear-to-ear grin as he performed what Superman knew to be a truly lost art form.

"That's called the Horizontal pop," the man explained to the Kryptonian. "Dave, show him the Cattleman's Pop."

The boy swung the whip up along his right side, high into the air to fall back behind him. Just before the thong of the whip hit the ground, Dave brought his arm sharply forward and down, pointing right at the two adults. A split-second later, the whip had rolled out along it's own length, and cracked only a few feet from them. Superman could actually feel the sonic concussions in his chest!

The superhero gave them his biggest smile. "Wow! That's just amazing. I must say, I'm impressed."

"Well, I'd have to say that meeting The Man of Steel is a lot more impressive than just poppin' a whip," Joe replied with a smile. "Would ya like me to learn ya how ta pop it?" Joe asked, with an exaggerated drawl. Superman chuckled.

"Well, maybe another night. Right now, I have to continue my patrol. But, let me ask, where can I get one of those? I know someone who'd love to get one of these as a Christmas gift."

The man seemed to glow. "Well, sir, I built these whips. I do it for a living, other than my day job."

"Really?" Superman was truly impressed. He had a soft spot for lost arts, and this truly qualified. "Tell you what... I'll come back here again in the near future, when the time is right, and we'll discuss having you build me a whip. How's that sound?"

"It would be an honor, Superman," Joe breathed. Superman shook his hand once more, waved to David, and leapt back into the night sky with a wink and a smile. He could hear their excited chattering as he flew away. But his smile quickly faded as his ears picked up another voice, and there was no mistaking what this new voice, a few hundred yards ahead, in a dark area of the huge park, was saying, or rather crying:

"RAPE!"

Speeding toward the sound, Superman came to a hover over some trees. Cocking his head, he listened carefully, and sure enough, he heard what sounded like a young male's voice, panting, and moaning.

"You're r-r-raping me! No! Stop! RAPE!" came the voice from the darkness below the hovering superhero. Without a second's hesitation, he bored down through the trees and emerged to see... two males, one a good deal larger than the other. The larger man was behind the smaller one, and was holding his hand over victim's mouth while forcibly, vigorously assaulting him sexually.

Suddenly the larger man found himself lifted from the ground and flung about 15 feet away by a snarling superhero in a very familiar costume of blue and red. The victim looked almost as stunned as his attacker, but as Superman advanced on the rapist, who was trying to rise but was tangled up in his pants, which had been around his ankles, he heard the victim behind him say, in a trembling voice, "Hey, what are you doing!"

Superman grabbed the attacker by his jacket and started to haul him to his feet, but by then the victim had come over to them, and grabbed The Kryptonian's free arm. "Hey, man, leave him alone!" the young man said in a very clear, and not-victim-like voice. The attacker looked like he was going to faint, and for a second a very confused Superman could only look from one to the other and back again.

"I said put him down!" the smaller man said, stamping each word from between clenched teeth. "He's my lover!"

Superman was so stunned that he didn't just put the guy down, he dropped him almost as if his hand had been burned. "Do you mind telling me exactly what's going on here?" the Man of Steel stamped his own words out. "You were crying 'rape!'"

It was then that the smaller man seemed to register who he was dealing with, and Superman watched as the guy's face went from recognition, to shock, to something like amused embarrassment. He looked down at the ground for a second and realized his pants were still down around his ankles. Pulling them back up, he looked at the bold figure in blue and red with chagrin. "Uh, well, y'see, this is our fantasy."

Superman had the decency to look shocked. "Your _fan_tasy?" he repeated.

"Well, um... yeah. I have a rape fantasy. And my boyfriend and I are making it happen. Uhh, I didn't mean to... oh, God. This is embarrassing."

Superman actually opened and closed his mouth about four times before he could successfully make words come out. Looking sideways at the two, he asked, "Are you sure? Because, if you're afraid he might try to hurt you for testifying..."

"No-no-no, really! Look." With that, the smaller man moved into the arms of the larger one and gave him a very passionate kiss on the mouth. "Superman, he and I have been lovers for 3 years."

By now, the 'rapist' seemed to have found his voice. "So, we like kinky sex. Call us weird..."

_One thing about being able to fly around the world,_ thought the superhero,_ you get to where almost nothing can surprise you anymore! _

"No. That's okay. I try not to judge others' lifeways. But, in the future I'd recommend that you keep the calling for help down to a whisper. What if I'd been a cop with an itchy trigger-finger?"

"I'm terribly sorry for causing you to think I was really being hurt. We'll be more... discreet next time," said the smaller man.

"Let's just hope their isn't a next time," replied Superman as he flew off, leaving two very embarrassed men on the ground. He caught their voices as he began to outdistance the sound waves:

"Boy, he must be pissed," said the bigger man.

"But did you see how hot he looked in those Spandex tights?" replied the smaller one.

As fast as he could, Superman flew up above the city, and into the stratosphere, getting as high up as possible before dissolving into a fit of giggling. In all the years he'd been working as a superhero, that last experience had to be a first. He laughed until tears started to roll down his cheeks. Just as he thought he had it under control, the looks on the faces of those two fellows popped into his mind and he started to laugh again, actually wrapping his arms across his belly, he was laughing so hard. He was glad he was nearly out of Earth's atmosphere, because the volume produced by a howling-with-laughter Kryptonian was well over 120 decibels. Superman certainly had nothing against Gay people, he was simply laughing at his own good wishes gone hilariously wrong!

_Well, Kent, this is one of those time when the universe shows you just how silly life can be,_ Clark thought to himself as he flew back toward Metropolis. _Never forget this. It'll help keep you humble._

After another hour on patrol, Superman was ready to call it a night. The world was remarkably quiet, and the Last Son of Krypton said a silent prayer of thanks. Entering his Clinton Street apartment through the window, he had his uniform off in a flash. He would be going to sleep in a few minutes, so he didn't even bother with a robe. He simply fixed himself a cup of hot cocoa, using milk and heating it up with his heat vision, walked back into the living room, and lay down naked on the couch. There was an comforter draped over the back of the couch, and he wrapped himself up in it. He decided not to turn on the TV, opting instead to simply look at his Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. He had started doing this back as a child in Smallville, sleeping on the couch in front of the Christmas Tree on Christmas Eve nights, and doing it as an adult seemed perfectly normal as far as Clark was concerned. This year's tree was a real Noble Fir, 6 feet tall, the kind you can buy live, planted in a pot. Clark planned to plant the tree after the Holidays at the Kent farm. It was bedecked with miniature white lights on the outside, while the trunk of the tree was wrapped in a spiral of multi-colored mini lights, going from red at the base through the spectrum to blue at the top. A Christmas tree was a tradition he embraced, and the rich pine smell as well as the sight of it fully decorated, brought very warm memories back. Some of the decorations were from many years ago, others more recent. But, the one concession to his own individuality crowned the top of the tree. Where most folks put a star, or an angel, Clark had let his whimsy take over.

Atop his tree was a fully-illuminated plastic model of the Starship Enterprise!

As he sipped his cocoa, and felt sleep begin to wrap him in a peaceful embrace, he looked at the framed snapshot of Lois and Jason on the end table near the tree. He would be seeing them over the next couple of days. Jason's presents were already wrapped, waiting at the base of the tree for Clark to take them to his son.

Closing his eyes, Clark's last thought was, _This is gonna be a great Christmas!_


	3. Chapter 3

_To all of you who reviewed and read this last year, I thank you one and all. The reviews were wonderful, and picked-up my spirits. I'm sorry it's been so long since the last installment, but I have been very ill battling AIDS and homelessness, so I don't always have the energy to be as creative as I'd like. But, I'm doing better, so hopefully I'll be able to finish this one soon._

Superman is owned by DC Comics, I own nothing.

It was Christmas Eve morning. Clark was still sleeping peacefully on his couch, his mind empty, devoid of dreams. A nice, deep, bear-in-hibernation sleep. The kind that really makes you feel rested.

The kind Superman rarely got to enjoy, due to having such highly sensitive hearing. This morning was no exception, as a sudden high-pitched tone pierced into Clark's consciousness. A familiar tone. One that started the local dogs to barking. And, sure enough, carried along on the tone, was a voice.

A familiar voice.

"This is Lex Luthor. Only one thing alive with less than four legs can hear this frequency, Superman, and that's you."

Clark, instantly angry, sat bolt upright. But, just as he had stood up, and donned his suit in under one second, he just as quickly halted in surprise at Luthor's next words:

"In approximately five minutes… I will be pouring some tea and serving some mimosas. Aw, hell, you probably won't believe me, and I know you'll just think this is another ruse, but believe it or not, this is serious. Would you be willing to come see me for a little while today? No tricks, no traps. After all, it is Christmas, and I have something I need to discuss with you. I'll be here in my bar at the Vanderworth mansion for the next two hours. And, if it'll make you feel more secure, you may let the police or Miss Lane or anyone else know where you'll be. And if you do come, I think you'll be glad you did. 'Till then."

With that, the annoying tone had quit.

Clark stood there for several minutes, thinking furiously. What could embolden Luthor to try something like this on Christmas Eve morning? He wouldn't be at all surprised if it turned out to be an elaborate trap. But, then again, Luthor, for all his criminal tendencies, for all his greed and lust for power, had never actually lied about his intentions. In fact, his arrogance had usually driven him to tell even Superman, in his grandiose fashion, exactly what he was planning, never considering whether it compromised his tactics or not.

This was just too weird, and although Kal-El was an alien, a Kryptonian on Earth, when it came to insatiable curiosity, Clark Kent was as human as anyone on the planet.

Three minutes later, Superman was hovering 8,000 feet directly above the Vanderworth estate. Using telescopic and x-ray vision, he carefully scanned the mansion and the grounds. Other than some of the older areas of the building that had lead-based paint on the walls, the view was remarkably clear. And, Superman noted, free of anything that was either explosive, incendiary, chemical, kryptonite, or even allergenic. Quickly, silently, he landed on the front porch. Taking a deep breath, prepared for anything, Superman rang the doorbell. The one thing he was NOT prepared for was the woman who opened the door.

"Miss Teschmacher?!"

The bar was in the back of the mansion. It was lined in fine, dark wood, rich cloth, and bookcases, filled with enough publications to open a used book store. Along the back wall was a set of picture windows looking out onto a lawn that was set up as a putting green bordered by tall trees in the distance. Along the side wall was an expansive, fully-equipped bar. Seated behind the bar, reading the Daily Planet and sipping a mimosa from a champagne flute, was Lex Luthor.

As they had walked through the mansion, Superman had asked Miss Teschmacher why she was back with Luthor.

"Well, just so you know, I had gone straight and was doing quite well for myself down in Hackensack. But, after Lex called and told me about his situation, I agreed to come and help him. Kitty wasn't able to handle it all by herself, so we both work for him for now."

A trained reporter, Superman had the strong sense that she was not telling him everything, and said so. He was still very wary, and did not feel like having to go on a mining expedition for the truth. "Look, Miss Teschmacher, what aren't you telling me? I really have no patience for games or prevarication today."

She looked up at him with a certain… weariness. As if there was a great weight on her shoulders. "I think it's best if Lex himself brings you up to speed. I'm not trying to hide anything from you, it's more a matter of… discretion. You'll understand in a moment."

By now they had come to the entrance to the bar, and she stepped back to allow him to enter. "I have some work to do, but I'll see you again before you leave." With that, she left Superman to his meeting.

"Ah, Superman, good of you to come," came that familiar, infuriating voice from the bar. "Please come in, have a seat." Lex Luthor gestured to a seat at the bar. Superman came closer, but remained standing, arms crossed and a stern glare darkening his features.

"Alright, Luthor, what's going on this time? You do know it's Christmas Eve, and I have more important things to do today…"

"Yes, I understand that, and I want to tell you that I appreciate your coming by on such unexpected notice, Clark."

"If you think…" Superman started to say, but stopped dead in his tracks as he re-processed Lex's last word. Peering suspiciously at his old foe, Superman slowly said, "What did you just call me?"

Lex let a ghost of a smile play across his face. "What, your super-hearing out of order today, Clark? That's right, I know it's you. Clark Kent."

Superman frowned, stunned. "Where would you get that idea?"

Luthor's smile grew slightly.

"Do you really think a pair of glasses and a change in hair and posture is going to make me fail to recognize you? We knew each other for almost five years back in Smallville, Clark. And I was there when you saved my life during my plunge into the river, if you recall. Give me at least a little credit for some brains."

Superman just stood there, truly uncertain as to how to react. First Perry, now Lex. What was this, National Super-Hero Coming Out Day?

"Look," Lex continued, "I have no interest in revealing your secret. Frankly, I don't give a damn one way or the other. Although, considering what a healthy upbringing Jonathan and Martha gave you, I'm glad the most dangerous being on the planet is you and not Morgan Edge. Look, will you please sit down? I promise, the stool won't explode."

Slowly, dubiously, Clark sat down on the proffered stool.

"Would you like a mimosa? I think I make a pretty good one," Lex offered, reaching in the fridge under the bar to retrieve a bottle of what proved to be freshly-squeezed Valencia orange juice. Looking down the bar, he saw a waste can with a number of squeezed orange halves.

"No, thanks," Clark replied, still expecting some kind of trap.

"Well, okay. But if you change your mind, just say so. And if it's all the same to you, I'm going to have one." He began pouring the juice into the flute to about halfway. Clark had to admit, the smell of freshly-squeezed Valencia oranges was intoxicating. He then reached for a bottle of Dom Perignon Champaign, which was in an ice-bucket to Clark's left, inside the bar, and started to pour it into the juice, bringing the flute to full. "Anyway, I have a couple of items for you. Think of them as…" and with that Lex gave Clark his patented greatest-criminal-mind-of-our-time leer, and paused before adding, "Christmas presents."

Clark tensed as Lex reached under the bar, bringing up a small bundle wrapped in black velvet. Fully expecting Kryptonite, Clark was quite stunned when Lex unwrapped the bundle to reveal a long, clear Kryptonian crystal. One of the crystals which had been stolen from The Fortress. Clark looked up at Lex, shocked. Lex was looking right back at him, looking him in the eye.

"I hope you'll accept this as a genuine offering of remorse for my having stolen your property from The Fortress." At that point, Lex glanced away briefly, either in shame or in fear, Clark couldn't tell. But he continued, "I'm sorry that I don't have the others, but they're… well, I assume they're lost forever, but I don't know for sure. But, for whatever it's worth, I want you to have this back. And I want to apologize to you for all the pain and trouble I've caused you."

Clark had to almost forcibly restrain from slapping himself across the face in order to wake up.

_This has to be a dream. Okay, now I'm lucid dreaming. So why aren't I waking up?_

Lex simply looked at him for a long moment as Clark appeared to be processing all this in his mind.

Then, like a light turning on, Clark suddenly flashed on a moment from a few years back, where a time-traveler named Kristin Wells had hinted to Superman that someday he and Lex would resume their friendship.

_Could this be that moment?_ Clark wondered. _Don't get your hopes up, Kent. But, then again,_ (the optimistic Kansas farm boy piped-up), _Scrooge eventually saw the error of his ways, so why not Lex Luthor?_

He decided to take a chance. "Okay, Lex. I'll have a mimosa. Thanks."

Smiling, Lex pushed the glass he'd just poured over to Clark, then grabbed a similar glass for himself and started pouring another drink. Clark picked it up, trying not to be too obvious about examining it, but failed miserably when it came to the point where he sniffed it. Lex laughed quietly, and said, "Clark, it's safe. Look, would you like me to taste it for you? Of course, even if it were Kryptonite, it probably wouldn't hurt me," he added almost as an afterthought.

Clark looked Lex square in the eye, and took a large gulp. Lex smiled, and raised his glass. "To a Merry Christmas, Clark."

"Merry Christmas, Lex."

Both took another swig. Then, looking down into his glass, Lex chuckled, "Man, that sounded pretty cheesy, didn't it?"

Clark smiled. "Yeah, even for me." His smile faded, and he looked Lex over closely, leaning forward. "But, Lex, really. I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, honestly? This seems just so out of character for you. I don't get it. To be frank about it, why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" He looked at Lex earnestly, searching for any physiological signs of prevarication, evasion, fear, butterflies, trying to squelch butterflies, eyelash-twitching, palm-sweating, knee-jumping, heart-rate changes, or anything else that would tell him Luthor was lying. Nothing there seemed out of the ordinary, and Lex appeared to be at ease. But, the one thing Clark did notice was a kind-of spiking, dark red change coming over Lex's aura. Clark had seen it many times, on people who were trying to maintain their composure, either from panic or from anxiety, or even post-traumatic stress syndrome.

Lex sat back in his stool, taking a deep breath. He looked down at his hands, each gripping the armrests, and then back up at Clark.

"A year or so ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. A tumor in my brain, which had apparently been there for quite some time in a relatively benign state. It was the size of a golf ball, and it was impinging on the areas of the brain which control the reasoning between right and wrong. It didn't help that I was naturally a greedy bastard. The tumor was apparently the result of exposure to any of a number of carcinogens in use at LuthorCorp. It was responsible for affecting my empathy and reasoning in such a way as to cause me to have these violent sociopathic tendencies. Anyway, a number of months ago I underwent gamma knife treatments, and they were able to remove most of the tumor. Luckily, it hadn't affected my cognitive and intelligence centers, so I'm still as brilliant as ever. I may no longer be the greatest criminal mind of our time, but I am still the greatest mind of our time in general."

Clark laughed out loud at this one, and Lex looked at him, perplexed. "What, you don't think so? Anyway, now that the tumor is gone, I actually feel differently than I used to. And, I also feel badly for the things I've done against you and your family."

Clark settled down. "Lex, I…I'm truly sorry to hear about your illness," he replied. "But, I take it they cured you?"

Luthor's face faltered. Slowly, he spoke.

"Well, the thing is, the tumor had grown malignant before they found it. By the time they got to it, apparently it had metastasized. They got rid of the tumor, but now I have lung cancer, and it's spreading." He looked at Superman with openness in his face and pain in his eyes. Clark looked deeply into Lex's body, scanning him from head-to-toe. Sure enough, there in the center of his brain, was a… crater, or hollow gouged out of the gray matter. Clearly, the tumor's resting place. Clark looked into Lex's lungs, and quickly stopped looking. What he had seen there, the disease infecting and transforming the healthy pulmonary tissues into something… well, there was a reason such cancer was called malignant. After a moment, Lex took a sip from his mimosa, holding his glass up to look into it's orange, bubbling contents. "But, I'm one of the lucky ones. I have enough money and security to live worry-free for as much time as I have left. Many people don't. Which brings me to my other little offering for you." Lex reached into the back shelves of the bar and pushed an intercom button. "Catherine, you can bring them in now," he spoke toward the pickup.

Less than 10 seconds later, Kitty Kowalski appeared through a side door, carrying two mid-size suitcases. As she put them on the bar next to Lex and Clark, she looked at Superman and smiled slightly. "Hello, Superman."

Superman returned her smile. "Merry Christmas, Catherine."

She turned to leave, saying "I'm helping Eve with dinner, but I hope I'll see you again sometime," to the superhero.

"Thank you," he smiled in return.

Looking at the two suitcases, he x-rayed them. Luthor, seeing what he was doing, said, "Man, what's the point of wrapping presents when you're around."

Clark, in shock at the contents of the luggage, only muttered in reply, "A couple of years my parents actually used lead foil under the wrapping so I couldn't see what the presents were. Lex," he turned to his old nemesis and lowered his voice to a hiss, as though afraid of listening ears, "I can't take that!"

"Yes, you can," Lex replied, opening the first suitcase. Inside were bundled hundred-dollar bills. Ten million dollars' worth of them. The same was true of the second case as well.

"Where did you get that money?" Clark demanded.

"Clark, I still own most of LuthorCorp. Plus, I have a lot of assets here, and I have a steady income from a number of my inventions. I've been liquidating assets for some time, once I was made aware of my condition."

"I couldn't possibly take money from you, Lex. It just wouldn't be right," Clark stated flatly.

"You haven't let me finish. Not all of it's for you. The first suitcase, I want you to donate to the charity or needy of your choice. Maybe a children's cancer fund, or something. Whatever. I've already made a lot of donations, most anonymously. But, like I said, this is my way of extending a peace offering to you. That way, you can donate, anonymously if you like, to whomever you see fit."

Clark slowly nodded his head. "When you put it that way, I suppose I could think of a few places where that kind of money would help people," he murmured. "So, what about the second suitcase?"

Lex pushed the case toward Clark. "That one's for you," he stated.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks so much to all you who have reviewed. This next chapter was not easy for me to write. I hope it doesn't come across as trite. Let me know, huh?_

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As he flew away from Luthor's mansion, the two suitcases dangling awkwardly from each hand, Clark reflected on how things can change, despite the certain belief that they will always stay the same.

_Lex Luthor turning over a new leaf_, he chuckled to himself. _Whodathunkit?_

Of course, Lex was still Lex. When Clark had asked him about his plans for his admittedly truncated future, Luthor, with a hint of the old "evil genius" gleam in his eye, had replied that he was in the process of attempting to buy his own county. It was actually a bid he was making on Ebay to buy an entire town in Northern California that had become nearly abandoned and was on it's way to becoming a modern ghost town. Lex was arranging to purchase the entire county. The only snag he was facing was with the State of California over changing the county's official name from Pinyon County to Luthorville. The town's name would also be changed, if Luthor had his way. Clark couldn't resist, and asked him if it would be called "Otisburg!"

Lex had looked at Superman in mock disgust before replying, "Watch it, Supe-Baby. I've been polite enough not to joke about how you wear your underwear on the outside of your tights!"

In the end, they had shaken hands, and a still-stunned Superman had taken off from Luthor's front porch. Eve and Kathryn had been standing on the porch with Lex as the caped superhero had lifted gracefully into the sky. Well, as gracefully as he could with two large suitcases in his hands. As he headed back toward Metropolis, he caught a bit of conversation between Lex and Eve.

"He really is a great man, isn't he?" Eve asked breathlessly.

"Yes he is," Lex mumbled. "Too bad it took me so long to realize it. He and I could probably have done some amazing things together."

As he headed for his apartment at 344 Clinton Street, he thought wondrously about the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, and how sometimes life can imitate art. Although Clark had pretty-much concluded that Lex was a lost cause, Kristin Wells' subtle hint as to Lex and Clark's future friendship had never been far from his mind, and he reflected on how hope can be very much worth sustaining. Even hope for someone as tortured as Luthor. The fact that his hopes had finally been given substance was, as far as Clark was concerned, one of the best Christmas presents he had ever received.

As he was touching-down on his balcony and entering through the door to the living room, he heard a plaintive, terror-filled voice calling out.

"_No… NOOOO!! Oh, shit! OH SHIT!!! Clancy! Clancy, come on boy! Oh my God, HELP!!!"_

Dropping the suitcases, Superman blew himself off of the balcony, quickly gained an altitude of 6,000 feet, and started scanning the city. There it was, on one of the bridges into Metropolis over the Narrows near Hob's Bay: a vehicle on fire. Flashing down onto the scene, Superman could see that it was a small RV, a camper-type Winnebago, and flames were exploding from all the windows. The fire appeared to be in the engine, but had spread throughout the vehicle. Getting close, Superman saw something he couldn't believe: a man had broken out one of the rear windows, and was attempting to enter the blazing camper. He was yelling as he tried to fight his way through the smoke.

"Clancy!! Come on, boy! Come on!! Clancy! CLANCY!! CLANCY!!!!" He was screaming hysterically as he tried to get into the window. Coming from within the flames was the horrible sound of an animalistic cry. As Superman approached, there was a sudden, sharp POP from within the camper, and then a small explosion followed. The flames were now roaring through the window the man was trying to get into, and he fell back from the opening, his long hair in flames, to collapse backward onto the pavement before trying to rise again to his feet. By now, the caped superhero had reached the man, had blown out the flames which had burned half of the man's scalp, and was holding him back from further attempts to get to the vehicle. The man was coughing uncontrollably, and Superman had no trouble forcing the man away from the flaming camper.

"Was there anyone else in there?" the Kryptonian asked, quickly but gently.

"My animals…(cough)… my dog and cats…" The man began vomiting onto the pavement as Superman scanned the interior of the camper with X-ray vision. What he saw sickened him. As quickly as he could, he used his super-cooled breath to extinguish the flames. Entering the now burned-out husk of the camper, Superman saw that he had been too late. The remains of a mid-size dog and two cats were huddled under the campers' rear bed. The dog appeared to be a mix of blond Lab and pit bull, the cats were harder to categorize. The three pets had been charred to death, their fur completely singed off. They reminded Superman of a roast pig he had seen once at a luau. Their auras were already flickering out, leaving behind the horribly charred husks of what had, just moments before, been two obviously beloved pets. There was nothing he could do. As he looked around the interior of the melted vehicle, he could tell that this had been the man's home, along with his animals. It was clear that he had lost everything.

Emerging back into the sunlight, he saw the man was lying on his side, still vomiting. X-raying him quickly, he saw severe smoke damage to the man's lungs, trachea, and sinuses. Half of the man's long hair was gone. The other half was still intact, and as Superman looked more closely, he saw that it was in beautiful, NBA-style cornrows, braided tightly to the man's scalp, cascading in long dreadlocks down his back. This was striking, as the man was not Black. Realizing the weakening victim might not survive long enough for an ambulance to get through the traffic jam caused by the ruined camper, Superman gently lifted the now delirious fellow into his arms, and took to the air.

"Don't worry. You're safe now. I'm taking you to Metropolis General. They'll fix you right up," he murmured to the man in his arms. He needn't have bothered: the man had passed out cold.

Superman delivered the still-unconscious burn victim at the Emergency Entrance to Metropolis General. Luckily, there were two doctors standing outside the doors, taking a break. As soon as they caught sight of the caped superhero dropping from the sky with a person in his arms, they rushed over to meet him.

"He was in a vehicle fire. His lungs, trachea, and sinuses have some burns, and he was throwing-up quite a bit at the scene. But, he doesn't seem to have sustained any other injuries that I could see," Superman reported succinctly.

One of the doctors had rushed inside, returning with a wheeled gurney. Superman gently laid the man down onto the white sheet. "His name is Rich Allan." (Clark had X-rayed the man's ID in his wallet during the flight). "He was living in the vehicle, along with his dog and two cats. He tried to rescue them from the fire, which is how he got burned. There was nothing left but a melted camper. His pets died, too. I think he's going to need all the help he can get," the Kryptonian added, looking the doctors in the eye.

"Don't you worry, Superman, he'll get the best. And, thank you."

"Thank _you_," Superman replied as he lifted into the sky.

About two hours later, after he had finished a brief patrol of the otherwise quiet city, a freshly-showered Clark Kent walked into Metropolis General's Emergency Department, and inquired as to the whereabouts of the man Superman had rescued from the camper fire. The nurse, recognizing Clark from any number of past visits to interview any number of injured parties (if it bleeds, it leads, Perry had always said) directed him to a bed near the back end of one of the emergency wards. The area was surrounded by a privacy curtain, and Clark carefully poked his head around the edge. The man he had rescued was awake and sitting up, but as Clark approached he could see that the man was clearly in shock. As he moved to the side of the bed, Allan looked slowly up at him. He wasn't exactly dazed, but rather appeared as though he was somehow… adrift. As though he had been sucker-punched by the greater aspect of life, and was too stunned to respond, yet not stunned enough to hit the canvas. To Clark, he looked just like that… a sitting TKO.

"Excuse me…," the mightiest man on the planet began quietly. "Uh, I'm Clark Kent. I'm a reporter for The Daily Planet."

The man looked up at Clark. He didn't say anything, his expression revealing nothing. His hands, which were reddened and darkened from the heat of the fire, were sitting on his lap. His eyes were blue, and had a haunted look. "Yes?" he replied, hoarsely. There was still some black soot around his nose, mouth, and parts of his scalp. He was slender, about 6 feet tall, maybe 145 pounds, with handsome chiseled features and sharp eyes. He looked to be a racial mix, light brown skin, almost Native American-looking, but not completely. His cornrows were still in place, those that hadn't singed, and he looked to Clark like some kind of Klingon warrior who'd just had his Bird-Of-Prey explode all around him. To Clark, he seemed like a strange mix of Hippie and biker dude. The man coughed deeply, and Clark could smell the odor of burned plastic and wood. Clark had dealt with more structure and vehicle fires than he could count, and yet somehow he had never gotten used to the smell of smoke from such a fire. It was a smell that he associated with pain, terror, and death, and it nearly nauseated him.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I need to ask you a few questions about what happened today?" Clark began, tentatively.

The clouded look in Allan's eyes seemed to clear for a moment, and in a ragged but surprisingly articulate manner, he replied, "Oh… of course, whatever I can tell you. I'm kind of… The Daily Planet, huh? Wow, why would they want to do a story on me?"

"Well, I mean… what you went through was pretty remarkable, don't you think?" Clark stammered.

"It was a fire in my camper. Fires happen every day. What's so remarkable about that?" Allan asked.

"Well, I mean, most people would've gotten away to safety. You tried to get back in to save your pets…" Clark trailed off.

The man's eyes lost a bit more of their despair, and hardened suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

Clark thought fast. "Well, it's all over the hospital. I guess Superman told the nurses or something. I think it was also on TV. Footage from one of the WGBS News choppers."

_Good save, Kent!_

The man's eyes lost some of their clarity. He snorted a kind of ironic bark. "Yeah, Superman. Why didn't he save my animals? Where was he?" The resentment dripped from his words.

Clark felt about 2 inches tall. He placed his hand gently on the man's arm.

"I know Superman well enough to tell you he did everything he could. If he had been able to save your pets, he would have," Clark said quietly, but with a voice that was deeper than the most people ever heard from him. It was the voice he used when he was trying to instill confidence in those around him. The voice of a hero.

"They burned to death, y'know," began the man. He wasn't looking at Clark. He was looking down at his hands, still resting on his lap. "My pets. Clancy and Batsy and Tribble. They were my babies. They'd been with me for seven years. They were all I had in the world. And I failed them."

Clark had seen this type of reaction before. People who survived such disasters often had a sense of guilt that they hadn't done something else. Something more.

Something… superhuman.

Knowing that his words were feeble at best, Clark nevertheless offered the only condolence he could. "I hate to sound like a cliché, and I know things look hopeless right now, but you're alive. You still have your future. You still have your health," he finished, a hopeful rise in his tone on the last words.

At that point, the man looked Clark dead in the eyes.

"No, I don't have my health," he retorted quietly. "I have AIDS. And now I have no home." He hadn't said it with malice, or resentment. He'd simply stated it, like for him it was a simple fact of life.

Clark felt as though he'd, as Harry S. Truman had once said, been hit on the head with a bale of hay. For a moment, he had no idea how to respond. He'd seen the homeless and the hopeless close-up and in person on a daily basis as Superman. This man didn't seem like so many of them. And yet, like many of them, he had the emptiness in his eyes of one who has to stare in to the abyss every time they wake up in the morning without any hope of climbing out. As he pondered this man, and others in similar situations, he thought of his 'quest' to find Krypton, to find others like him, in order to feel 'less alone,' and suddenly felt more ashamed of himself than he'd ever felt in his life.

"I had just gotten out of the hospital a few weeks ago," Allan continued. "Kidney failure. The doctors told me if I didn't start the AIDS 'cocktail' soon, I had less than a year to live. But, the Social Security Administration tells me that my condition isn't bad enough to make me eligible for Disability benefits. So, I still work when my health allows it. But, even if I had good credit, which I don't, I still can't rent an apartment, because I got evicted a few years ago when I was out of work. Landlords won't rent to someone who's been evicted, anymore. Bad credit risk, y'know. And now, I have a $15,000 hospital bill that I can't pay."

Clark just stared at the man for a moment, unable to respond. Allan went back to looking at his hands. The drip-drip of the I.V. line going into the man's veins was suddenly very loud. Clark seized on the first thought that came to mind.

"Did you say one of your cats was named Tribble? As in, The Trouble With Tribbles?"

For just a second, the man's eyes brightened, and a smile started to cross his features. Then, just as quickly, he seemed to deflate, and it was then that Clark saw his chin start to tremble, and his eyes well up.

"Yeah, Tribble, or Mr. Tribs. I'm a Star Trek fan. He was Batsy's son, the runt of the litter. Didn't look like he'd survive, he was so tiny. He didn't even have fur for about 3 weeks after the others were already out and playing. When he did finally start growing his fur, he looked just like a little tribble. I found homes for the others, but I couldn't let him go. He was my baby. He looked like a Xerox of his mama. He was a totally sweet cat. Loved to give me kitty-kisses. And now he's dead, and it's all my fault." The man's tears were running down his face, but his voice stayed level, like he was simply relating facts.

Clark moved closer to him, trying to offer some form of physical presence as well as moral support. "Why do you think it was your fault?" he asked, concerned.

"When the engine caught fire, the truck came to a stop. Of course, I didn't know it was on fire yet. It had been known to stall sometimes, so I did what I always did: I opened the cowling to the engine inside the cab. That's when the fire rushed up and hit the carburetor. I actually tried to blow it out with my breath, like Superman. Can you believe that? If I'd have kept my head about me, I'd have closed the cowling back up, and gotten the animals out. But I panicked, and tried to get the cowling out, since it had caught fire while I was holding it, and all I could think of was getting this burning cowling out of the truck. It got stuck between my chest and the steering wheel, in flames. It took about fifteen seconds to wrestle it out of the door, and when I turned back to get into the rear, the gas in the carb exploded, and I couldn't get through the flames. The animals hid in the back, under the back table. I jumped out of the truck and tried break the back windows with my fists, but I wasn't strong enough. I finally found a piece of pipe on the road nearby, and broke the window with that. That's when the fire came through the back window, just as I was trying to get in. Clancy… oh, God, he was screaming. I could hear him. He was screaming and on fire, and…" at that point in his narration the man simply stopped talking, took in a deep, shaky breath, and began coughing again.

Clark was familiar with the last of the story, having been there and seen it for himself, albeit in a cape and tights. He knew that by the time he'd arrived, there was nothing he could do to save the poor animals. And, if Superman had to bear the man's resentment and anger, he was more than willing to take it. He was very stunned, therefore, when the man finally spoke again.

"Superman arrived as I was trying to get them out the back window, but I think it was already too late. I just hope the smoke knocked them out before they suffered too much. Man, I feel so stupid. First, I let panic totally control me, and then I actually had to be saved by Superman, when I'm sure he has more important things to do than take a careless fool like me to the hospital. I shudder to think of the traffic problem I caused."

Suddenly, unbidden, Clark felt something of his father, Jonathan Kent, pop into his psyche, needing expression. Without knowing what he was going to say, he started to talk.

"Mr. Allan, you listen to me. You were not careless, nor a fool. You had a terrible, tragic incident that would bring any man to his knees. You aren't to blame for it, and you mustn't beat yourself up over this!" Searching his mind further, Clark jumped on a glimmer of inspiration. He moved even closer to Allan, wanting the ravaged man to feel the intensity of his emotions, as well as the power of his words.

"You are a Star Trek fan. Let me ask you, do you watch a lot of TV?" he began.

Allan looked at him askance. "Uh, well, when I had a TV, yeah." Clearly, he wasn't sure where this was going. But Clark was.

"Do you remember a show a few years back called 'Touched By An Angel?'"

Allan nodded.

"Well, a lot of people Superman deals with ask him, 'Why did God let this bad thing happen to me?' Many of them fail to realize that, even though God loves us, bad things can happen to Him, too. Whenever any of us suffers, God feels that pain, and cries with us. Sometimes bad things happen to the best of us, for reasons we just don't understand."

Allan gazed at Clark, a glimmer of resentment in his eyes. "If you're using Touched By An Angel as an example, then where were Monica or Tess, or hell, even Andrew when I needed them? Where was MY angel?"

Clark bored a look right back at Allan, praying the words and the will would seep into the man. "That's my point: You didn't need an angel. For those animals, YOU were the angel! Superman told me what he saw. He saw three animals living in a camper with a man who loved them enough to stay on a difficult path rather than abandon them at a shelter, or with strangers, or on the side of the road just to make his life easier. You never went to any of the homeless shelters in Metropolis, did you?"

"No," Allan replied. "They wouldn't let me have my animals. And none of the few apartments that would accept me would either. They'd been with me since before, when we had a home. Shit, I found Clancy when he was a tiny, stray puppy on the street. He and Batsy had given me the best years of my life. No way would I just get rid of them like some old clothes or something. So, when it looked like I was about to be put out on the street, I scraped together all the money I had and bought that old camper. Got it from a broke methamphetamine dealer a buddy of mine knew for $400. Huh. Some bargain," he finished vehemently.

Clark jumped on that. "That's my point: you sacrificed everything most of us would consider essential, like a home, in order to preserve your family. According to Superman, those animals had toys, shelter, and were well-fed. Not the kind of commitment you see from most homeless people, and certainly not from people dealing with AIDS."

Allan's tears were flowing again. "But, I didn't save them! They died because of my own stupid panic!" His voice was starting to sound like it had when he was trying to get into the burning camper.

"But they _lived_ for seven wonderful years that they probably would never have had because you gave them a loving home! And, I guarantee you, if there is a Heaven, they are there now, healthy, happy, and thankful to have had such a loving human in their lives."

Allan appeared doubtful, but didn't say anything more. Clark backed off a bit. Then, he appeared to have a sudden thought. Looking around, he found a pad and pen on a nearby counter, and quickly scribbled something on it before handing it to Allan.

"When you can, I think you should look this up. You can find it online. I think it'll help a little," Clark informed him. Allan looked down at the scrap Clark had handed him. On it was written, 'The Rainbow Bridge.'

Clark took a deep breath. He may have been indestructible, but times like this were emotionally exhausting.

"Anyway, I need to get back to The Planet. Is there any way I can reach you… y'know, if there's anything I can do…"

The man thought for a moment. "Umm… yeah, you can call my friend Mark. I usually keep in touch with him. Oh, yeah, I have an email address. Thank God for Hotmail, huh?"

Clark handed the man another scrap of paper, and a pen. The man wrote his information on the paper, handed it back to Clark.

"I'd shake your hand, sir, but it looks like it might be a bit painful. So, I'll just say goodbye for now," Clark said gently. He wanted to wish the man a Merry Christmas, but considering the circumstances, he felt that would seem mocking. Giving the man one of Superman's smiles, he quietly left the room. This time, it was easy for him to smile that way. He had a plan in mind.

By the morning after Christmas, Allan was discharged from Metropolis General. As he was getting dressed, a nurse came to him bearing a large manila envelope. The man looked puzzled as she handed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It was waiting at the ER desk for you this morning," she replied casually.

Opening the large brown envelope, the man turned it upside down, allowing the contents to fall out onto the bed. Three items were all it contained. One of them was a key. The next was a smaller, business-sized envelope. The third was a regular sheet of note paper. On it were written the words, '_To Mr. Rich Allan… This key fits in the front door of the house at 30955 Briggs Rd, in the countryside just west of Metropolis. The house is yours, free and clear. It's not much, but you can call it Home. Inside the smaller envelope is a little something to help get you back on your feet. After seeing your situation on the news, I felt the need to offer help. Don't worry; I can afford it. Try to have a wonderful life, sir. You deserve it. If you ever get the chance, and feel the need to do something in return, please just Pay It Forward. Merry Christmas. Signed…, A Friend_.'

His hands trembling, Allan opened the smaller of the envelopes. Inside was a cashier's check for $100,000.

For the first time since the destruction of all that he knew, Rich Allan began to cry.


	5. Chapter 5

_Okay, here's Chapter 5. It's now early Christmas Eve night. Yes, I know I jumped briefly ahead in time on the end of the last chapter, but I felt it was better to conclude Mr. Allan's part of the story there, as it won't really be relevant anywhere else. But, suggestions and reviews are always welcome, and to you folks who have reviewed so far, you have no idea how encoraging your words and thoughts are! THANK YOU ALL!_

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Shortly after Clark had left Rich Allan at the hospital that Christmas Eve, he found himself on the rooftop of his apartment building, reviewing the items he had gathered. First off was the water tank. He hadn't actually needed to gather the old tank; it had been on the roof of the building since its construction many decades prior. These days, it was no longer in use, replaced by more modern plumbing and a newer, stronger tank a few yards away, reserved for emergencies. Next was the old horse harness with attached bells that he had pulled out of the loft in the barn in Smallville.

Satisfied that everything was in place, he flew off toward Lois's home across the bay, on Riverside Drive. It was the same house she had lived in with Richard, however now she and Jason lived there by themselves. Richard, after coming to the painful realization that Lois was never going to set a date for their marriage, had quietly moved to Washington, DC, to head-up _The Planet's_ Political offices. There was actually no animosity between he and Lois, and although Jason was very unhappy about Richard's leaving, he had eventually gotten past it with the fact that Richard was only a phone call away, and made a point of seeing Jason whenever possible. With Superman as a friend, instead of a competitor as Richard had originally feared, those visits were more often in DC, thanks to 'Kryptonian Airways.' Clark would never have even considered keeping Jason and Richard apart, and was always warmed by the love in his son's face whenever they, literally, dropped-in on _The Planet's_ Political Bureau chief. It helped that Clark genuinely liked Richard, as well, and had been able to take Lois's former fiancé into his confidence. Clark had been feeling, for a while now, that cohabitation with Lois and Jason was the next logical step, but he was content to take his time. They were still trying to not only figure out their relationship, but they were also dealing with the logistics of juggling Clark's dual identity when in the presence of mutual friends. At least having Perry in the loop would make things that much easier.

Settling into the backyard of the two-story colonial, Superman checked that the coast was clear, and approached the doors leading into the den. Lois saw him approaching, and opened the doors for him.

"Hey, you!" she smiled.

"Hey, yourself! Merry Christmas," he replied, following her into the house. Jason, who had been upstairs trying to pass the time until Christmas morning (_it was a whole 15 hours away! That's almost YEARS!!_) came running full-tilt down the stairs, yelling "Daddy! Daddy!" and jumped into Clark's arms. The jump spanned a good 9 feet, and Clark let out a very real OOF! on impact. Rolling onto the floor, Clark immediately began tickling his son's ribs unmercifully. The mop-haired boy giggled and shrieked in delight, until he finally caught his breath enough to cry out, "Daddy, I think...HAHAHA… better stop…HAHA… I'm gonna PEE IN MY PANTS!"

"Uh-oh," Clark said, and instantly stopped tickling Jason.

Jason, a wicked gleam in his eye, yelled "Fooled ya!" He then plastered his mouth against the exposed skin of Clark's neck, sealed his lips on the skin with his mouth open, and blew hard, making a loud farting raspberry sound on his father's skin. Clark started to shriek in almost the same high-pitched tone as Jason had before standing up and giving his son a long hug. "Is that how vampires say 'I love you?'" Clark chuckled.

Lois couldn't resist. Pulling Jason from Clark's grasp, she replied, "No. They say 'I loff you!'" in a passable impression of Bela Lugosi.

Not to be outdone, Clark opened the doors to the back yard, looked outside and said, in his version of Lugosi's voice, "Leesten tooo thame. Thee children of thee niyte! SHUT UP!" and then began to laugh uproariously at his own joke. Jason was giggling almost as hard as when Clark had been tickling him. Lois, trying to keep a straight face, added to the merriment with, " No thanks. I neverrr drink… vine. And I don't smoke… uh… stuff!" she quickly amended, mindful of young ears.

Laughing, Clark took her into his arms, with Jason grabbing the both of them by the legs. "Lois, with you it was definitely 'Love at First Bite!'"

Letting her go, he managed to break free of the syrup was threatening to drown them. "Listen, obviously it's short notice, but did you have any specific plans for dinner tonight?" he asked.

"Actually, I was getting ready to call in a take out order. We were thinking of a big pizza. Jason's allergies seem to be a thing of the past since…" she broke off, clearly still shaken by Jason's display of deadly super-strength onboard the Gertrude. "Well… you know…" she trailed off, keeping her voice low.

Clark understood, and waved his hand, as if to ward off the pain of Lois' memory of that day. "Well, if you two are interested, I discovered the coolest restaurant, and I thought maybe I'd take us all there for dinner."

Lois looked at Jason for confirmation. The boy was jumping up and down, and was reaching nearly to the level of the adult's heads on each subsequent jump. "Yeah, momma! Can we? Huh? Pleeeease?" he wheedled. Lois then looked to Clark. "What kind of a restaurant? And where is it?" she inquired.

"To answer your second question, it's down in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. And for your first question, you'll just have to wait and see!" Clark responded with a twinkle in his eyes.

Less than twenty minutes later, the trio was standing on the sidewalk on King Street, Alexandria, Virginia, in front of a small storefront that was part of the old shops that had been on that street since the time when America was young. The restaurant they were in front of had a red neon sign in the window identifying it as 'Hard Times Chili Café.' Clark had quickly changed into his street clothes in a nearby alley, and carrying Jason on one arm while offering Lois his other, they entered what Clark considered to be the best Chili place in the solar system. Maybe even the entire Alpha Quadrant! The first thing Lois noticed was the intoxicating aroma of fresh-cooked Texas chili. The second thing she noticed was the sawdust on the floor. Throughout the restaurant were rough-hewn wood planks covering the walls, and old metal road signs, cattle skulls, and other 'road-house' décor sprinkled about. The place had the atmosphere of an antique barn, or maybe a garage sale that had suffered a massive explosion. A long bar ran down the side of the place, and there were neon signs everywhere. A jukebox, wired to speakers throughout the restaurant, was playing selections from Mannheim Steamroller's 'A Fresh Aire Christmas.' In the corner near the front windows, which looked out onto King Street, was a full, lush, live Christmas tree, decorated in a plethora of lights, ornaments, and of course, Hard Times merchandise.

Taking seats in a booth, Lois looked at Clark, who was already perusing the menu, and considered the fact that, as much as she thought she knew him, Clark Kent never failed to surprise her.

By the time they had finished their food and drinks, Lois felt she might bust her gut right then and there. It was, as far as she was concerned, the best chili she had ever had in her life. Jason was still full of energy, despite having shoveled nearly a truckload of spaghetti into his mouth, and was at that moment lost in an in-depth exploration of the jukebox. Inside the glass front were these strange black disks, and a big arm would grab one out of a rack of many, flip it onto a round turntable, and then a long arm would drop down onto it while it rotated. The arm would bob gently up and down on the disk (a _record_, Clark had called it) and music would come out of the speakers. Jason of course knew about CD's and DVD disks, but he had never before seen anything like this, and although it looked positively prehistoric, he also found it utterly hypnotic.

"Jason," his dad's voice called to him presently, "C'mon over here. It's about time to leave."

Indeed, as he approached their booth, Jason could see that it was almost dark outside. King Street was lit up, however, with thousands of tiny, white lights bordering every building and spiraling up the trunks of the trees along the sidewalk.

"Time to go home already?" he asked.

Looking at mother and son, Clark's eyes sparkled. "Actually, I thought we'd do something really fun."

"Really? What? Whatwhatwhat are we gonna do next?" the boy's words tumbled out of his mouth at almost super-speed. Even Lois looked at Clark with a small smile.

"I thought we'd do one of my favorite things to do on Christmas Eve. Let's go 'light-looking!'"

And that's just what they did. With Lois held alongside him, and Jason riding piggyback, Superman took them on a slow aerial tour of the best Christmas light displays along the East Coast, from Washington, DC all the way up to Boston. Lois couldn't remember ever having a more enchanting Christmas Eve, but as beautiful as the light displays were, she felt that they were no match for the sparkle in the eyes of the man who was the father of their child, and who just happened to be able to fly.


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, kids, it's Chapter 6. Christmas is almost upon us! Get into bed, and no peeking!_

_And, to all of you folks who have been so supportive in you reviews, thanks. It means a great deal to me, as I've never really written fiction before. So please, keep those reviews coming!_

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By the time Clark, Lois, and Jason (riding piggyback on Clark) were over Metropolis, it was after 10:00 PM. Christmas was creeping up fast, and Clark quickly dropped to a quiet landing on the back porch of Lois' house on Riverside Drive.

Jason, however, kept his arms around his father's neck, still hanging on from behind.

"Do we hafta quit already?" he whined.

"Already?" Clark asked, mockingly scolding his son. "We've just seen every Christmas light on the entire Eastern Seaboard! We'll get picked up as a UFO if we're not careful. Or, we could've accidentally collided with Santa's sleigh!" Clark's eyebrows rose in feigned horror.

Lois stifled a laugh as Jason rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Daddy. Even I know that Santa's not real!"

"Oh, really?" Clark asked. "Well, I may just have to tell him on you when I see him later tonight!"

Jason's eyes got VERY big. "Uhh… no, please, please, pleeease don't tell him I said that. Mom told me that..!"

Lois looked scandalized. "Oh, thanks! Whatever happened to 'Blood is thicker than presents,' huh?"

"Well, ya did…" Jason muttered.

Clark was just starting to herd them toward the back door of the house when…

He looked upward suddenly. Lois stopped and studied his face. It was the look he always wore when he heard something disastrous occurring somewhere in the distance.

"What's happening?" she asked, a hint of concern coloring her voice.

Superman let out a small sigh. "Sounds like the Christmas Eve party crowd is heading home from the bars. I just heard a pretty big-sounding traffic accident."

Lois looked across the river, as if she could almost personally see the island's drunk drivers weaving their deadly way through the streets toward their respective homes. She looked back into the face of her hero. "Well, no rest for the police tonight. Or you, for that matter," she said, laying a hand compassionately on his arm. Jason, too, seemed to take on a more serious expression. "I heard it, too," he announced.

Superman looked down at his son, then reached down and scooped him up in his arms for a moment.

"You did?" The boy nodded, solemnly.

"Well, you know what? This is pretty easy stuff. And it's typical on a holiday evening, especially Christmas and New Year's. A lot of people go out to bars or night clubs or restaurants, and simply have too much to drink, then they try to drive home drunk. And that's how people get hurt. So, I have to go and just… make sure everyone gets home safely tonight. But, I promise I'll be back in time to help you and your mom open all the presents under the tree in the morning. Okay?"

Jason quickly gave his father a kiss. "Okay, Daddy. Be careful," he added.

Lois looked at the most powerful man on Earth as he put their son back down. "What he said," she whispered to him, giving him a kiss, too.

As he rose into the air, he called back to them, "Merry Christmas to all! Now get upstairs and go to bed!" before disappearing into the dark night sky in the general direction of Downtown Metropolis.

The first one was pretty routine. A two-car accident that was serious enough for a quick appearance, but no so serious that there were any life-threatening injuries. The car with the sober occupants had been T-boned by the car driven through the red light by a somewhat intoxicated man. Everyone was shook-up, but they were all on their feet and milling about until the police could arrive with a tow truck. Superman didn't even bother landing; he simply listened from above, out of sight, for the few moments it took him to determine that everything was alright and that the drunk driver was not going to flee or become belligerent.

The second one was a bit more distressing. It was a car, parked all by itself in the parking lot of a large mall, which was otherwise devoid of cars. Some instinct in Superman told him to check it out. As he descended, he could see a single male asleep at the wheel of the car. The driver's door was slightly open. There appeared to be… oh, God no, it was vomit by the side of the car. Superman quietly landed, approaching the driver's door. "Hello?" he called. No response. Peering closer, he could see the driver was sitting asleep at the wheel. The car's engine was idling, the driver's window open. "Hello, Sir?" Superman called again, this time from only about five feet away.

No response.

The man was breathing normally, so he must not be in too bad a shape, Superman considered. Finally, he reached in and firmly shook the man by his shoulder. The man slowly opened his eyes, and then suddenly he started and grabbed the steering wheel, as though he had only just realized he was in the driver's seat.

"Wha… what… oh, my God.." he managed to utter. He looked over at the blue-clad superhero addressing him, expecting for a moment that it was a cop. His eyes got even bigger as he recognized the Man of Steel. Quickly, he undid his safety belt and got shakily out of the car. Along with him came a rank, strong odor. Urine mixed with alcohol. Superman looked the man up and down. He was wearing dress slacks and a polo shirt, obviously a working professional, probably in a service position. Superman at once saw the source of the odor: the man had urinated in his pants, probably during his sleep.

Blinking rapidly, as if to clear his head, the man looked at Superman, and asked, "Did I do something wrong? How did I get here?"

Superman gave the fellow a small smile that could have been one of reassurance or simply indulgence.

"I might ask you the same question. What's the last place you remember?"

The man thought for a few minutes, his hand coming up near his face, making a fist, as though the gesture would help clarify the memory. "I was at The Office. That's the name of my favorite bar."

"The Office?" Superman echoed.

"Yeah. That way, if you're running late, you can always call your wife and say, 'Honey, I'm staying late at the office!' They have a second one they opened recently. They call it The Branch Office," the man related with a sheepish grin.

Superman couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I'd say you've been working late enough for this Christmas. How did you manage to get here?"

The man's face registered deep dismay.

"Oh, God… I can't remember anything. Musta been that third Mai Tai. Oh, man, I didn't hurt anyone, did I? I'd never want to hurt anyone. I guess I had way too much to drink." The man sat down heavily on the hood of the car. "Look, if you're gonna take me to the cops or arrest me or somethin', I won't give you any trouble. Just please don't hurt me.."

Superman had to reign in his shock. "First, I don't go around hurting people just because they make a mistake. Second, I'm not a cop. And third, you seem like a nice enough man, and it IS Christmas Eve. How about I just give you a lift home? I'll bet your family is worried sick about you."

"Well, to tell the truth, I don't have a family. Never got married. I'm kind of a loner. I don't mind, though. I have good friends, and a nice DVD player, and a cat I love."

For a second, Superman couldn't help but flash on the image of Rich Allan's cats, their bodies burned almost beyond recognition. _Some people_, he thought looking at the man and his car, _have no idea how good they've got it_. Helping the man to return to the driver's seat, Superman instructed him to buckle up, asked him his address, then lifted the entire car into the air for a quick ride to the man's home, a small single-wide mobile home in a nice little trailer park well outside of town.

Superman nosed the car into the small, awning-covered parking pad next to the kitchen side door of the mobile home. As he set the car down, sure enough out from behind the garbage cans came a tabby cat with a collar around it's neck. The cat stopped about 10 feet away from Superman, sat down, and said, "Mrrow?"

Bidding the man and his cat a good evening, Superman lifted back into the night sky.

The next incident wasn't exactly a result of drunk driving, but rather reckless youth. Superman, from his aerial vantage point, heard the sounds of several cars colliding in rapid succession, all coming from the same source. Powering forward and down into a middle-income neighborhood of brownstones and warehouse-loft apartments, Superman saw the problem and its cause: there was an uncontrolled intersection that had a nasty layer of black ice covering the entire area. The culprit was apparent: a fire hydrant that had been deliberately opened by some kids who wanted to see what would happen when cars hit the ice. Scanning the three vehicles that had just become ensnared in the slippery practical joke, Superman saw that there were no injuries. Luckily, even with the surge of people leaving the bars, the area was relatively quiet. However, there was one vehicle approaching the intersection from about two blocks away. It was approaching fairly quickly, and The Man of Steel knew that the driver would not be aware of any problem until it was too late. The air, although cold enough to allow ice to form fairly quickly, was still clear, with no clouds, fog, or precipitation of any kind. So, most drivers wouldn't be expecting black ice. Superman sped off toward the approaching car.

The speedometer was crowding 40 MPH, and as he saw the intersection getting closer, Perry White eased back on the gas pedal. A rustling next to him told him that the milk and groceries he'd forgotten to pick up earlier, were shifting due to his slowing the car. As he let his eyes lock on the bag for a second, reaching over to it on the passenger seat to keep it from spilling, he was suddenly startled by the sound of a _KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK_ on his driver's side window.

Looking sharply to his left, he almost lost control right then, until he recognized the face of Superman, who was apparently flying alongside Perry's car at window-level. The Kryptonian was motioning to Perry to roll down the window. After a brief moment of wonder, Perry did so.

"Perry, sorry to startle you, but you need to stop right now. There's a big mess of black ice right up there," Superman pointed to the intersection, less than a block away. Carefully, Perry brought the car to a stop. Superman remained hovering. "I'll be right back," he explained, before floating over to the icy intersection.

Focusing his gaze, Clark sent a wide beam of heat vision down onto the pavement. The sheet of ice quickly melted and evaporated away, sending thick steam wafting into the chill night air. Satisfied that there was no longer any hazard, Superman drifted back to Perry's car.

"Wow. Thanks, uhh… Su…Clark…. Goddammit, I still can't believe it's really you!" Perry gushed, which Clark found somewhat out of character, and very endearing. Clark chuckled along with him. Checking his watch, Perry asked, "What are you doing out so late, anyway? Don't you have Christmas to spend with someone? Namely, Lois and Jason?"

"I might ask you the same thing," Clark playfully retorted.

"Oh," Perry started, gesturing to the passenger seat of his car, "I forgot some groceries earlier on the way home, so I had to come back out before the stores closed. Lucky I found one open at all. What's your excuse?"

Clark grinned. "Well, even Christmas Eve won't wait for Superman. And that includes the evening's drunk drivers. I did take Lois and Jason out to dinner earlier, though."

"How did you know I'd be driving here?" Perry asked.

"I didn't. I heard the sound of three cars crashing up there at the intersection, so I came to help, and saw you heading this way. I figured you couldn't know, so I thought I'd warn you before you became number four," Clark explained.

Perry breathed a shaky sigh. "Well, you have no idea how much I appreciate that, Clark," he stated gratefully.

Giving him a grin far wider than Superman usually offered, Clark replied, "My pleasure, Chief."

"You have no idea how much I DON'T appreciate _that, _Clark!" Perry growled, glaring for a moment before letting his face break into a gentle laugh. He extended his hand, and Clark grasped it warmly.

"Are you coming over to Lois' for Christmas tomorrow?" the most powerful man on Earth asked his boss.

"Yes, of course! I wouldn't miss it," said Perry.

"Good. Then we'll expect you to bring an appetite!" Superman said, as he lifted slowly into the air.

"Count on it," Perry replied up to his receding form. "And I'll expect five inches of copy from you for the City Beat on this black ice incident the day after tomorrow!"

Superman gave Perry White one last suave salute before disappearing into the dark sky beyond the glow of the streetlights.

Perry watch as Clark faded from view, then chuckled to himself. _I can see the chapter title in my memoirs already,_ he thought. _I hired an alien from another world!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the positive reviews. Keep 'em coming!_

_I have to say, what's Christmas without a little mischief?_

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_It was usually about this time of night_, Clark thought as he flew away, _that the younger ones who were up to Christmas Eve mischief would be out and about_. He had no idea who had turned on the fire hydrant which had caused the traffic snarl back there. He had tried tuning his ears to the sound of adolescent giggling nearby, but had only picked-up random noises, including recorded Christmas music; television programs (most prominently a telecast of _Scrooged_); a little boy squealing in delight as he got to open his stocking before going to bed and finding a sub-miniature RC toy car inside, along with some wrapped chocolates; three couples engaged in amorous pursuits of varying degrees of passion and/or athleticism; and one loud domestic quarrel.

Sure enough, as he drifted silently above the sleeping streets, he caught an unusual sound, but one which nevertheless had a strong, familiar imprint on his memory: the sound of a large fire extinguisher being discharged. Superman tuned-in his hearing toward the source of the sound, below and to the right. As he approached the alley where the sound had originated, he noticed a lack of crackling flame sounds, or the voices of panic that were often heard when someone tried to deal with a fire in their home. Instead he heard something unexpected and ugly: the sound of two men laughing, followed by a reedy thin, older man's voice pleading, "HEY! WHAT THE HELL'S THE IDEA!!! I'M TRYIN' TO SLEE---" the man's agitated voice was cut off by the fire extinguisher, and Clark came over the edge of the building adjoining the alley to see two young males blasting an old man, obviously homeless, in the face with a CO2 fire extinguisher. The young men looked to be about 18 years old; their victim appeared to be in his 70's. The old man was sitting in the alley, in an alcove near some trash cans, out of the way of traffic and prying eyes. The blast from the fire extinguisher one of the boys was holding hit the man square in the face, and he jerked back, involuntarily hitting the brick wall with his head. He yelped in pain, then sagged down onto his side, clutching his head with his arms, both as a reaction to the pain from the blow to the back of his skull, but also to protect himself from the extinguisher's sub-zero blast. The boys giggled and cackled almost maniacally at their victim's indignity and dismay. But before they could loose another blast of CO2 on the old man, they suddenly found themselves in a freezing, buffeting gust of wind. Almost before they realized what was happening, a thin crust of ice formed over the windward side of the two hoodlums before the harsh, violent wind died down. Looking around, they suddenly caught sight of the source of the mystery wind; a large, imposing figure in bright blue and with a billowing maroon cape and familiar "S" shield on his chest who was gently settling down onto the ground in front of them. The two young men appeared to be rooted in place. Superman closed the short distance separating them. Suddenly, a loud farting sound burst from the boy holding the fire extinguisher. For a moment, Superman stopped, and time seemed to freeze. The boy had the classic "deer in the headlights" look on his face. Briefly, all attention focused on the flatulent youth.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog began barking.

Superman gave a quick glimpse and saw what the others were beginning to realize: the boy had just crapped in his own pants.

Stifling a laugh, Superman kept his expression neutral as he reproachfully remarked, "Y'know, kyping people's Christmas lights or setting bags of flaming dog poop on someone's porch is one thing, but guys, I'm sorry, but hurting another human being, and one that's in the unfortunate position this man is in, is simply inexcusable."

At that, the other boy, who had nothing in his hands, broke from the scene, and started to run up the alley. Superman shook his head, gave a rather exaggerated long-suffering sigh, and seemed to suddenly vanish from sight. A split-second later, a yelp was heard from the darkness down the alley into which the second boy had run, and then Superman came flying back down toward the assault scene, holding the teenager by the scruff of his jacket in one hand, and the kid's arms bound behind his back with the other hand grasping the kid's wrists. He settled to a gentle landing in front of the first boy, who was still holding the incriminating extinguisher. Taking hold of both young men by either shoulder, he pushed them downward until their knees buckled and they landed on their rumps on the cold cobblestone. Pointing at them, Superman sternly advised, "Sit. Stay!"

Glancing around the alley, he spotted a dumpster with the remains of a large appliance box that had recently held a refrigerator. Its steel binding straps were still patyially attached. Superman flashed over to the dumpster and was back in front of his "clients" before they could even register his movements, and within another heartbeat, they found themselves bound together, back-to-back, with the steel packing band, the loose ends of which Superman had welded together with a quick blast from his heat vision, followed by a flash cooling with his breath. He didn't want the red-hot weld to burn the boy's clothes or skin, after all.

Stepping over to the old man who was still huddled on the ground, still covered with the snow and frost from the fire extinguisher, Superman knelt down in front of him. The Kryptonian's eyes seemed to glow as he directed a wide, very gentle wave of heat vision over the man, warming him up and evaporating the ice. The man began to shiver as his muscles reacted to the sudden warmth. Superman gently took the man's tattered blanket, stood up, shook the thing out (_It's almost got more holes than it does cloth_, thought Clark), and applied another wave of heat vision to the blanket to warm it up before placing it back over the old man, who was hugging his arms around his chest.

Superman moved to one side of the man and carefully reached for his head. The man offered no resistance. "That's a pretty nasty lump. I think it would be best if you went to the hospital, Sir," the hero quietly informed the man. Looking gratefully into Superman's eyes, the man smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Sir. I've had a lot worse than this. It's just a big bump, but I'll be alright. It's those punks you should be worried about. People just ain't safe anymore!"

"Nevertheless, you could have a concussion. That was a hard hit you took," Superman tried.

"Are you kidding? This skull is made of 150 lb concrete. It's the building I hit you should be concerned about, not me," he argued with a small smile. "I'm just glad for their sakes you got here when you did," he motioned toward the bound youths. "I was just about to get angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," he bragged with a humorous swagger of his eyebrows.

Superman did chuckle at that, and turned toward the two young would-be muggers. "Y'see how lucky you guys are that I came along? Two more seconds and this old fella would've Hulked-out all over you! Just think of how embarrassed you'd be to get beaten-up by a seventy-eight year old man," he teased.

The one who had held the extinguisher had found his tongue, and his attitude. "Oh, right, like he's really any threat to us," he bragged.

Superman speared him with a look. "Hey, Pooper-Butt, if you're such a badass, then why did you need backup and a fire extinguisher against one old homeless man in an alley on Christmas Eve?" Turning back to the old gentleman, Superman asked him, "Would you like to go to a shelter? There are still a couple open, I think…"

The old man waved him off. "Superman, I've been staying around in this alley for quite some time. The owners of the shops give me some food or a little change now and then, and I make sure nobody messes around near the shop's back doors, and they allow me to sack-out back here without chasing me off. Works out great for everyone. Hey, I may be down on my luck, but I'm still useful. But, y'know, now that you mention it, there is a little family, a mom and her two little kids living in a station wagon in the alley over on the next block. Off Besolo Street. I'll bet they could use a little looking-after."

Clark looked into the old man's eyes with a sense of wonder. This wasn't just the spirit of Christmas, Clark realized. This old homeless man before him, huddled in a tattered blanket in an alley, rheumy eyes and unshaved stubble and reedy-thin voice, represented the best of the Human spirit. Down, but not out. Burdened but not broken. Clark may have been Superman, but he knew he was looking at a true superman. With a smile he slowly rose to his full height.

"I'll be right back. Keep an eye on these two," he indicated the still firmly-bound attackers. Handing the old man the fire extinguisher, Superman addressed the two boys.

"You two just wait right here. And, I'd advise you not to try anything stupid. The old man's got a fire extinguisher, and he's not afraid to use it!"

Superman lifted quickly into the sky. As he headed away, he could hear the young man who had soiled himself speak to his intended victim: "Think you're pretty tough when Superman's around, huh?" he taunted. Sharp ears picked-up the crunching sounds of the old man getting to his feet, and closing the distance so he could loom over the bound hoodlums. "Son, if I hadn't been asleep when you guys got started, you're the ones who would've needed Superman's help, and not the other way around," the old man drawled.

"You really think you all that?" the attacker retorted, hoping to sound intimidating by using ghetto slang.

"Pooper-Butt, when I was younger than you I beat back the Nazis at Omaha Beach. And they had machine guns. My buddies and I won World War II. You really thing _you_ 'all that?'" the old man replied, mockingly.

As he flew toward his destination, Clark Kent the Journalist couldn't help but think, _Tom Brokaw was right to call people of that man's era "The Greatest Generation_."

Several minutes later Superman returned to the alley. This time, he was carrying a large cardboard box. He was able to pick up the voice of the old man from about three blocks away. Far from being intimidated or brooding, the old fella was regaling the two teenagers with stories from his service days.

"Yeah, when I was at D-Day, I was still only 16. I'd lied about my age. I looked like I was about 19, so nobody really questioned me. Anyway, the war ended not too long after that. But, in 1951 they recalled me, and I ended up at a MASH unit in Korea for a few years."

"You mean like from that TV show a few years ago? China Beach?" This was from the boy who had tried to run.

"Couldn't tell ya. Never heard of it. We did get to visit the beach near Inchon once or twice, as I recall," the old man mused. The boy who had tried to run looked enthralled, but the other boy, the one who had actually used the fire extinguisher (and later soiled his pants) was just looking sullen. It was a look that Superman interpreted as_, I coulda been home by now if it wasn't for my rotten luck_.

Landing next to the three, Superman put the box on the ground and began rummaging through it. There was a telltale smell coming from the box, and three mouths began to water. It was a combination of smells, but the strongest was unmistakable: turkey and stuffing! Before getting to what was obviously a dinner, Superman pulled from the box several large blankets, a pillow, a new down jacket, a pair of heavy sweat pants, some socks, tennis shoes, a wool toque or ski cap and a knitted muffler. After that came a large garment wrapped in a dry-cleaning bag with a hanger sprouting from the top. Superman set that aside. Reaching back into the now nearly-empty box, the caped superhero pulled out a series of foil-covered plastic tubs of the kind used for storing food in the fridge. One was heaped with various cuts of steaming hot turkey, the next held the mouth-watering stuffing. From the box came gravy, biscuits, steamed veggies, and finally some pumpkin pie. Superman also pulled an envelope with what appeared to be coupons inside. "Now, these are vouchers for food from a couple of the burger joints a few blocks over, near the 21st Street Mission. These are motel vouchers good through January 2nd. And, finally, the secret ingredient…" Superman reached into the box, froze for a moment, waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and slowly pulled out a nice bottle of Chardonnay known to those who shop at Trader Joe's as "Two Buck Chuck."

"Don't let the name fool you," Superman explained. "This is actually a very pleasant California Chardonnay. Normally I don't advocate drinking in public, but, hey… you're a war hero, and it is Christmas Eve." Superman leaned down and very quietly whispered into the man's ear, "I figured, y'know… what the hell! Might help keep you warm."

The old man looked at the most powerful man on Earth in shock for about a half a second, then let loose with a great guffaw, and the Kryptonian joined him.

"Hey, that smells really good. Can we have some?" the second boy asked eagerly. Superman turned to the bound pair.

"Don't worry, in a few minutes you're going to be surrounded by more food than you'll know what to do with." Superman turned back toward the old man, and discreetly handed him a business-sized envelope. "I try not to pass judgment on people, either negative or positive. But I have to say, I'm very impressed with you, Sir. You seem to me to be someone who doesn't deserve to be in an alley alone of Christmas Eve. Take this envelope, and do whatever you need to do with it. Please don't open it now. But, after you do, I'd strongly advise you to follow the instructions on the note inside. God bless you, Sir."

Superman picked up the wrapped garment, draped it partially over the two bound teenagers, then grabbed them both in a bear hug and lifted-off into the night sky.

"Merry Christmas, Superman! And to you too, you little punks!" the old fellow called out as the three disappeared into the darkness. Looking up in awe, the old man shook his head slowly, his breath coming out in thick clouds of fog. Then, he remembered the envelope in his hands. It seemed to be stuffed to bursting, and was heavy. His hands shaking, he began to open the envelope, and rifled through the contents. Not believing his eyes in the dim area of his hideout, the old man moved into a pool of light near one of the rear shop entrances facing the alley, around a small corner where he knew nobody could see him from either end of the alley. Peering inside the envelope, his heart leapt into his throat. The envelope was stuffed with $100 bills.

Twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of them.

After looking, nearly hypnotized at the money in his hands, the old man who, for all his chipper gregariousness was on the verge of giving up hope that cold Christmas Eve night (although he would never have told anyone that) suddenly, and much to his own embarrassed amusement, realized he had something in common with the boy who had just attacked him with the fire extinguisher: the old man had just peed his pants!

Flying quickly with his teenage burden, Clark began his descent toward the 21st Street Mission. "Are you takin' us to the cops?" the second boy asked, fear clearly evident in his voice.

"I should do just that," the superhero said sternly. "But, the food in jail is pretty lousy. And, it is Christmas, I'm taking someplace where you'll be far more useful."

They landed in front of an old brownstone on the corner that had clearly seen better days. The building and it's glass front doors were marked with fading signs proclaiming it as the "21st Street Mission."

Before they entered, Superman removed the steel band holding them together. He grabbed them both by the shoulders and looked deep into their eyes. "Okay, here's the deal: I'm not going to take you to jail, and I won't say anything to the police or your parents, but ONLY if you do exactly as I say, and as Sister Edith says. She's the woman who runs this place. You promise me that, and you'll be home in bed soon, and you might even get a nice dinner in the bargain. Deal?"

The more arrogant of the two boys was trying to save some level of face, if not through bravado then at least through disinterested insolence. The second boy nodded his head vigorously. "Yes sir, Superman." He stammered.

Before Superman could rebuff the first boy, the doors at the front of the mission opened. The sounds of a few people singing Christmas Carols to the accompaniment on an old upright piano came drifting out onto the corner. The unlikely three looked up the steps and into the face of Sister Edith, the operator of the 21st Street Mission.

"I take it that these are the two happy carolers you told me about?" she asked the Man of Steel casually. She looked both of the boys squarely in the eye in a manner that quite effectively killed any thoughts of bravado on either of their parts.

Squinting at the more aggressive of the two, she wrinkled her nose. "Smells like this one needs a shower and some new clothes!"

Superman held him by the scruff like a wet cat.

"Yes, he is a bit aromatic, isn't he?"

"Well, don't you worry. This is a homeless shelter, after all. I've seen… and smelled… a lot worse. All right, all three of you, march!"

Superman pushed the two boys ahead of him. "Actually, Sister Edith, after this young man's shower, he and I have a few errands to run, if that's alright with you."

"Of course, but while he's showering, you're going to sit down and eat! No ifs, ands, or buts!"

Sister Edith led them through a small vestibule into a medium-sized common room that was the main room of the mission. At the back of the room was a serving counter, and the room itself was filled with tables, benches, and chairs, as well as the piano against one wall, currently being played by an elderly woman. There was a large, decorated Christmas tree in one corner, complete with presents at the base. To one side of the back wall was a corridor, a staircase headed up partially visible through the doorway. The serving counter was set up to receive the mission's guests, there were two people visible in the kitchen behind the counter's pass-through, one more person out front handling the serving. The aroma of turkey dinner was nearly overpowering. There were a number of older, destitute men and women, and a surprising number of children. Several people were singing carols alongside the piano. Others were talking, eating, playing with the kids.

Superman stopped and turned the boys toward him, still holding each by the scruff. He looked at the second boy, the one who had tried to run away.

"Okay, now you go with Sister Edith. Do EXACTLY as she says. If you're good, she may even feed you. Your friend here and I will be back in about an hour or so. If I get a good report from the sister, I'll take you home. If not, then…" Superman looked pointedly at Sister Edith. Sister Edith looked pointedly at Hoodlum #2, and then slowly drew her index finger across her throat with a scraping sound, leaving little to the boy's imagination. Superman released the now mollified teen, and Sister Edith promptly took him behind the counter at the back of the room, and handed him an apron and plastic gloves, and directed him to the sink in the kitchen with instructions to wash all the way up to his elbows with dish soap before he started serving food.

Meanwhile, Superman had marched his young charge, now holding him by the upper arm in the manner of a school principal, down the corridor, up the stairs, and into the second-floor hallway. They passed by a two doors, through each of which was visible a medium-sized dorm room holding a number of bunk beds and cots. At the end of the hall were two restrooms, Men's to the left and Ladies to the right. Superman, still holding the plastic-wrapped dry cleaning bundle, handed it to the boy.

"Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to go into that restroom, you're going to clean yourself off in the shower. I expect you to use soap, and I'll be timing you. You have exactly six minutes to get clean, and to put this on."

"But… what is this, anyway? What gives you the autho…"

"You now have five minutes and fifty seconds. You're welcome to keep talking, but if you aren't showered clean, and out of there with this on," Superman made a point of grabbing the bundle and shoving it against the boy's chest, "in the time I've given you, I'll take you straight to the cops. Think about it. Do you REALLY want to spend Christmas with some of the guys you'd meet in Men's Central Jail? Now, get in there, and don't even think about trying anything funny because I can see right through the door."

A little more than five minutes later, the young man stepped out of the restroom in front of Superman. The Kryptonian regarded him for a moment. "Now you have some idea what it's like for me, always doing my job dressed like I'm headed for a costume party!"

The young man was totally embarrassed.

Because he was dressed as Santa Claus.

Complete with fake beard and pillow for a belly.

"Do I really hafta do this?" he whined. Superman, this time instead of grabbing the boy, simply held out one hand in the direction of the stairs.

"Yes, you hafta do this," Superman retorted. "I did it last year, this year's your turn," he drawled.

"You dressed up as Santa Claus?" the teen asked, so filled with surprise his voice squeaked.

"Yep. And you know what? You might even end up liking it!" Superman replied.

When they got to the serving counter, Hoodlum #2 was already well into his task. At the moment he was serving an old man, who looked to be about the same age as their earlier victim. This man, however, had none of the vivacity of the man in the alley. This man looked as though he'd been beaten down by life. As though it was an effort just to stand up every morning. He slid his tray down the counter, and stopped at the young teenager without really looking at him. The boy looked at the old man before him for a second, then glanced over and saw his friend and Superman standing nearby. His friend was glaring at him, daring the smaller boy to make a crack about the Santa suit, or even daring to smile. To his credit, the boy did neither, instead simply looking at his friend, who had actually put him up to the evening's shenanigans to begin with, shrugged his shoulders, and went back to serving the old man in front of him.

"See that box?" Superman asked his charge, pointing to a box on the counter that looked very much like the one the superhero had been carrying a little earlier.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, yes. Sir."

_Hmmm… maybe he's finally getting tired of posturing_, thought Clark.

"Well, go grab it, and follow me." With that, Superman turned and walked out of the room and into the night. The teenager followed, holding the box to his chest with both hands.

Out on the corner, Superman directed the boy to stand in front of him. The tall Kryptonian then got behind the boy, grasped his waist with both hands, and asked, "You ready for this?"

"I – I guess so…" the teenager stammered.

"Well, I guess that'll have to do," Superman sighed, and suddenly they were both airborne and flying above the rooftops. Superman could feel the boy's tense muscles, though whether that had to do with fear of flying without an aircraft, fear of heights in general, or fear of Superman's wrath, he couldn't tell. It didn't really matter, as within just a few moments, they were descending into another alley, this one similar to the earlier alley, with the exception of a parked station wagon in the shadows at the dead end.

Superman made a point of landing himself and his passenger in the dark shadows halfway into the alley, so as not to be seen.

"Okay, you see that car? I want you to take this box to that car, knock on the window, and tell the person inside that you are Santa and you have a present for them. Then give them the box. Be sure to tell them that there's hot food in the bottom of the box. Then you come straight back here. Got it?" Superman asked the boy, looking him in the eye.

"Yes, Superman, I got it," the young man said, this time without sarcasm.

Turning around, the young would-be hoodlum walked up to the car. About halfway there, it suddenly occurred to him that the occupants could have a gun, and a sudden visitor at midnight could easily get shot. He almost stopped and looked back, but then it occurred to him that Superman would probably have known there if was a gun, and would not have allowed him to do this if that were the case. Wouldn't he? Oh, well, it was too late now; he was almost to the car. He might as well get this over with.

Shifting the box so he had his left hand free, he gently knocked on the driver's window. Shortly, the window rolled down about half an inch, and a woman's wary voice said, "Yeah?"

Before he could get a word out, however, a little girl who looked to be about six years old, scampered out of the back passenger door behind the driver's door, squealing, "Santa! Santa!!"

Quickly the woman hustled her way out of the car to block her daughter's forward progress. She knew this had to be a mugging. Christmas or not, there certainly was no such thing as Santa Clause. Especially not in an alley in Metropolis.

"Thaeddy, no baby…" the mother started.

"But Momma, it's Santa!" the girl squealed, trying to fight her way past her mother.

The teenage Santa quickly indicated the box he was holding. "No, lady, it's okay. I'm just here to give you a few things… uh… that you might need. There are some fresh turkey dinners in here for you. And some blankets and clothes, and stuff." Gently he placed the box on top of the car's hood and started to back away. Curiosity getting the better of her, the woman got all the way out of the car as the Santa-suited stranger backed away, and looked inside the box. Sure enough, the aroma of the turkey dinner was plain as day. Delving quickly past the blankets and articles of clothing, the woman let her daughter go as she rifled through the box like she hadn't eaten in a week, which was exactly the case. Free from her mother's grasp, the daughter took the opportunity to run up to Santa and unabashedly hugged him around the legs, causing him to stop his careful retreat.

"Oh, thank you Santa! Some of the other kids have told me that Santa isn't real, and even I know you prob'ly didn't come with reindeer from the North Pole 'cuz you look like the Santa from the Youth Center. But still, I prayed to God every night that my mommy and me would get some food for Christmas that's better than the stuff at the church. And some new blankets and stuff. And here you are!" Obviously his presence was enough to renew the belief in miracles in this homeless child's eyes. Kneeling down to her level, he thought about his own little sister, who was likely asleep at home right now. His mother was probably still up, ready to nag at him again for being out so late, especially on Christmas Eve. He started to speak, but found himself having to swallow a couple of times before he could make words come out.

"Is that all you wanted for Christmas? Isn't there anything more? Like a Bratz doll, or a bike or something?" Even as he asked, he knew how lame he must sound.

Looking back at her mother, who was now looking in wonder at the gifts within the box while tears poured down her cheeks, the little girl turned back to Santa.

"Well, yeah, I would. But, where would I put it? I'd be happier if we had our home back. Or someplace to live, and not just our car." The girl replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

Before he could reply, the mother put the clothing she was examining back into the box, and approached him. She was openly weeping.

"I'm sorry about that, a minute ago. On the streets like this, you just never know." Sniffling, and a little embarrassed, she extended her hand. "Thank you, so much. It's been a few days since we really had anything to eat."

Looking down, ashamed, it was all the young man could do to say, "No worries. You and your girl have a nice Christmas. G'night." With that, he quickly turned his back and walked back into the shadows where Superman was waiting for him. Placing his hand gently on the young man's shoulder, the hero said quietly to him, "Well done."

By the time Superman returned to the 21st Street Mission, it was with a very subdued and chagrined young man. After gaining the teenager's complete attention (which was easy once Superman hauled the kid up to about 7,500 feet over downtown Metropolis, reminding him that there was nothing between them and the ground but a mile and a half of air) and having spoken with the kid in a more serious, honest manner, Superman was convinced that these two boys would no longer pose a threat to the homeless denizens of Metropolis' alleys.

In fact, by the time they returned, the younger boy was sitting at one of the long tables with Sister Edith, a nearly-finished plate of turkey dinner in front of him. As they approached, the younger boy got up from the table and went behind the counter, deliberately intending to head-off his friend before he could fill his plate. As Superman sat down with Sister Edith, he could catch snatches of the teenager's discussion at the serving counter.

"So, what happened?" the younger one asked.

"I really don't want to talk about it," the one in the Santa suit replied.

"Are you okay?" the younger one persisted.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look, can I please just get some food?"

"Yeah, sure. Hey, this stuff is fantastic! You want some extra stuffing? We got plenty!" the younger teen enthused.

"Uh… okay, that sounds good." He was silent a moment, not looking his friend in the eye. As the younger boy served him up, he finally took a deep breath, and head still bowed, quietly said, "Look, Dog. Um… I wanna apologize to you. I shouldn't have made you… I did something stupid. Punking that old dude was pretty lame, and…" before he could apologize further, his younger friend spoke up.

"Hey, I may be younger than you, but I was there too. You didn't make me do anything. I coulda said no, but I didn't. Y'know, I'm almost glad we got caught. I know that sounds all jacked-up, but this Sister Edith is really cool, Dog! She's like all old-school when it comes to discipline, but she's aiight."

"Guess we both learned some lessons tonight, huh?" the young man mused.

_I guess you did_, thought Superman. _I guess you did_.


	8. Chapter 8

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It was well past midnight when Jason woke up. This was not unusual on this particular evening. Like many kids in developed countries, Jason awaited the arrival of Christmas with barely-contained excitement. He had been waking up every half-hour or so, alerted by the slightest sound, visions of sugarplums (well, actually a model train set and a digital camera and See's chocolates and some Disney DVD's and a new X-Box) dancing in his head. As it did for so many of the other kids tonight, Christmas Eve seemed to drag along with agonizing slowness. The night was a month long, and every sound would wake you up with the question… "Is it Christmas morning yet?"

But this sound… this was something Jason had only heard in movies and in recordings at Christmastime. Nevertheless, it was something every child who loves Christmas knows:

It was the sound of sleigh bells!

Wondering for a moment if this was a dream disguised as reality, Jason lay there with his eyes open, taking in the surroundings of his room. Everything was as it should be. He pinched himself. _Ouch._

Slowly sitting up on the edge of his bed, Jason made to move quietly toward the window. He was afraid to move suddenly for fear of disrupting whatever magic this seemed to be. He could hear the sleigh bells passing over the roof, and then the sound became a bit clearer as they passed into the view from his upstairs window. As he came to the window and pushed aside the lace curtains, he noticed the area of cold air as he approached within about 2 feet out from the glass, even though the window was closed. As he looked through the window, he was stunned to see… falling snow!

It was actually snowing.

Jason felt his spirit swell as he realized this was his first 'white Christmas!'

Once again, the sound of sleigh bells reached his ears, and he threw open the window and looked up toward the sound.

He froze, disbelief painting his expression into something Jimmy Olsen would have paid money to capture on film.

In the flurry-dappled sky above his house, was what Jason (and a few other people, including Lois) would later swear was Santa Claus, complete with sleigh and reindeer.

Flying.

Sensing a movement below his window, Jason looked down to see his mother standing in the back yard in her nightgown, shivering, and looking up in wonder at the sky. Jason looked back in time to see the form of Santa and sleigh fading into the thickness of the surrounding snowfall. Faintly, Santa could be heard calling "Merry Christmas to all! Dasher, Dancer, get movin' guys!"

His voice faded into the muffled snowfall, leaving Lois and Jason gaping up at the sky, before looking down at the ground. The snowfall seemed to extend for an area of about six houses before fading-off to clean ground. Looking back up, they were able to see clear sky through the speckling of falling snow, stars twinkling in the blackness above. Their own private snowstorm.

Looking back down at the ground, Lois stooped down, gathered up a large clump of snow, and picking it up she began fashioning a snowball. Turning up to face Jason in his window, she called, "Go back to bed!" as she let fly with the snowball. Before he could react, the freezing mass had hit him right in the face, causing him to fall backward, slamming the window shut with a clatter, and giggling as he wiped the sparkling powder from his face. He even tasted some of it. It was good.

Powering up, up, and away from Lois and Jason's house, Clark was beginning to think that hefting falling Jumbo Jets was easier, or at least less… awkward.

After taking home the two-man, would-be Elderly Extinguishing Crew, Superman had been able to wrap up the evening patrol with only one more incident; a Christmas Tree fire in someone's apartment. The tree was very dry, and the woman who lived there with her two kids had allowed them to overload it with lights. A short circuit had developed in the multi-plug at the outlet, which just happened to be under the tree. When the wires had melted through the insulation and started to burn, the tree rapidly caught fire. Superman was able to put the fire out with a blast from his super-breath before the tree was more than 30 involved; nevertheless the tree and many of its decorations were a scorched and smoldering mess, and were placed outside the fourth-floor apartment on the fire escape until the family could reclaim the remaining ornaments. However, before the kids could even get really started on a good cry, Superman came flying back, just minutes later, with a fresh, lush, green and fragrant Christmas tree from a lot that had closed earlier in the day and put out their remaining inventory for any takers, free. As he brought the tree inside, he gave the scorched wall a good look, and told the mother (whose two youngsters were already starting to shuttle decorations from the old tree to the new one), "This burn mark is only on the surface. A good cleaning with TSP should get that out, and maybe a little paint. There's no structural damage that I can see."

Now, about 45 minutes later, Clark tried to fly and balance the ungainly, awkward, life-sized plastic sleigh and reindeer yard decoration at the same time. The snow was also courtesy of the imaginative Kryptonian: Clark had created it by filling the old water tank from his roof with fresh water, then flying with it to an altitude of about 40,000 feet over Lois' house before dumping it in one big rush. Power-diving beneath the falling, sparkling mass of liquid while still clutching the large, old, antiquated water tank, Clark blew sharply upward into the artificial rainfall, causing it to atomize. After that, he allowed nature's below-zero air at high altitude to turn the fine mist into snow, which clumped together into larger flakes as it fell through the atmosphere. Quickly depositing the tank in a vacant lot near the waterfront, Clark raced back with the fake plastic sleigh, bells, and Santa suit from earlier. Reaching the area about 15,000 feet over Lois' house, he saw he needed to place some restriction on the falling snowmass as it began to drift and spread. At high speed, Clark flew in rapid spirals around it, creating a soft vortex that basically held the falling snow in a tall tubular column which Clark could then aim more precisely at Lois' house.

Once the snow had started to accumulate on the house, Superman has quickly donned the silly Santa costume and then the sculpture, a plastic contraption of the kind sold at home and garden centers starting in October. Normally you would put lights inside, and it would glow on your roof, looking as though Santa was making his visit to your house. Clark actually had created a hole for himself where the Santa figure had been before he removed it, near the front end of the sleigh, for him to step into, and lift the sculpture up to his waist and strap a pair of ersatz suspender straps over his shoulders to hold the thing in rough balance, sleigh behind him, 9 not-so-tiny reindeer in front of him, led by a red-nosed Rudolph.

As he flew back and forth wearing the ungainly creation and the bright red Santa suit, he also was shaking the sleigh bells he had brought from the farm, and calling out the occasional "Ho, ho, ho!" The bells really did sound just like the kind you'd expect to hear from Santa's sleigh.

Maintaining a precarious balancing act between holding the sleigh at the right angle (it kept wanting to pitch forward, the reindeer pointing straight down at the ground but the whole thing still flying forward horizontally) and shaking the sleigh bells, he kept one eye on his flight path and the other one on Jason's window. As soon as he saw Jason come to the window, he headed at a steep angle for the sky, calling out, "Merry Christmas to all! Dasher, Dancer, get movin' guys!" before disappearing into the darkness.

Presently, he made his way home, stashing the props and the water tank back on the roof of his apartment building.

About five minutes later, Clark was landing gently at the Kent Farm. He walked into the barn and replaced the sleigh bells on a shelf in a storeroom in the rear of the aging structure. As he walked back out of the barn, he was not surprised to see Shelby, his mother's old golden retriever, trotting slowly toward him. Kneeling down, he enveloped the affectionate old dog in a warm, loving hug. Shelby's tail wagged happily as he laid his graying muzzle on Clark's shoulder. Together, they ascended the steps of the old farmhouse and sat on the porch swing. Clark chose not to go inside, figuring Ma must be asleep by now, and not wanting to wake her. He was therefore surprised when she quietly emerged from the front door and sat next to him on the swing, dressed in her old flannel nightgown. The air was quite cold, and mother, son, and dog all had clouds of fog coming from their breath.

"It's just coming up on Midnight," Clark finally said.

"Still waiting to see if Shelby will talk?" Martha asked, a twinkle of warmth in her eyes.

"You know how much I love that story. Come morning I'm going to tell it to Jason. I'll bet he'll love it," responded the alien who was her only son.

When Clark had been seven years old, Pa had told him the story of the animals at Bethlehem, who, (according to one of the Holiday's larger contributing religions) were present at the birth of Baby Jesus, and fell to their knees and spoke in words as witness to the miracle that would resonate around the world for thousands of years to come. Young Clark had actually found the story so moving he had to fight from crying. Jonathan had seen his son's reaction and it was, for an aging farmer who had never dreamed he would have a son, just another display of proof that his boy was just as much a miracle as the one that had graced Earth those millennia ago in the deserts of Jerusalem. And, every year since that conversation, Clark had stayed up until Midnight on Christmas Eve, in the hope that Shelby, or any of the farm's other animals, would speak. Of course, as he grew older, Clark realized that actual words were unlikely to ever pass those animal's lips, muzzles, or beaks, but he didn't need Kryptonian powers to know that, with every tail wag, every nuzzle, every lick, rub, and cuddle, those animals were clearly speaking volumes. And, even as an adult, Clark still found himself holding back tears of love every time he looked into the eyes of Shelby, as well as almost every animal he had occasion to rescue or simply to meet on the street.

"Well," Martha sighed at last, "It's now Midnight. Let me be the first to officially wish you a Merry Christmas, son."

"Thanks, Ma. You, too," Clark replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna head home. You should probably get to bed, it's cold out here y'know."

"I'll second that," Martha bantered back, stifling a yawn. Rising from the old porch swing, Martha watched as her son, who just happened to be the most powerful being on Earth, gave Shelby's ears a scratch before gently drifting into the air over the front yard. "G'night, Ma," he called as he rose into the star-speckled darkness, his caped form rapidly heading East.

Was it just Martha's imagination, or did she see, in the direction her son had flown, a single star twinkling much brighter than the rest? Yes, it was definitely a very bright star, which seemed to last for only a moment before fading to a more normal glow. Martha couldn't help but think of another star that had, according to legend, appeared in the East one similar night 2,000 years ago. Many people held to the belief that that original star had been a sign from God, heralding the arrival of a Savior. Martha didn't know whether Clark counted as a savior, but she was certain, as she watched the glittering Christmas sky, that somehow the cosmos was indeed smiling on her beloved son.


	9. Chapter 9

_Closer and closer, kids! Christmas morning is crossing the time zones, but Clark hears the call of duty and must respond! **Thanks so much to Vgerland for the beta reading**. Your words bolstered my confidence when I needed it most, as this chapter definately has some political and social overtones. One of the foremost rules of writing is 'Write what you know. Write from your experience.' I have personally experienced elements of what happens in this chapter, as well as some of the previous chapters. But, it's like going naked in public: you're never sure who will be turned-on and who will be disgusted. I also didn't want this story to be all about fluff, after all, Superman has to do his job. But, I didn't want a natural disaster, or a cardboard criminal. I wanted to make a social comment, as I feel that's what Seigel and Shuster intended for Superman. So, this is my attempt at that. So, although my theme here is controversial, I like to think, as an American, that my heart's in the right place. I hope you enjoy it! And, as to the 'outdated quote' contained within, I'll bet you never knew Clark was a fan of 'Billy Jack!'_

_As always, I value your reviews!_

Clark decided to take a quick detour over the rest of the Lower 48 before heading home to Metropolis. It was a chilly winter this year, and much of the countryside over which the caped superhero flew was dusted in white. At one point, about 1,300 feet over Northern Arizona, he was joined briefly by a snowy owl, who approached his flight level from above, and came to a relative rest alongside, its pure white fluff sparkling silently in the starlight, its down-muffled flapping wings barely audible even to Superman's hearing. It looked curiously at him, hooted once, and continued down in search of field mice or kangaroo rats. Over all of America, it seemed a calm, almost blessed night. But, just as he thought that, he heard it – the sound of a child crying out his name, carried dimly on the air, distant and faint.

"_Help, Superman!"_

Quickly locating the general source, he powered over the dark Colorado River and across the southern deserts of California. Less than 3 seconds later, and causing two powerful sonic booms to roll along his flight path up the San Gorgonio Pass, (which would awaken the citizens of Banning and Beaumont with the assumption that there had been an earthquake, or possibly a derailment along the U.P. line which ran nearby) he was approaching the city of Rialto, California, a small community just west of the larger city of San Bernardino. Like that larger urban area next door, Rialto was also spread out along the base of the San Gabriel Mountains, which formed the great northern barrier that stretched across the top of the entire San Gabriel Valley like a 10,000-foot high wall. It was a clear, crisp night, and the snow-covered mountains formed a great backdrop to the sparkling, twinkling lights of the many towns and communities spread out along the valley floor, stretching occasionally into the foothills at the larger mountains' base.

"_Help, Superman!"_ came the cry again. This time, Clark was clearly able to locate the call. It was definitely a child, very young by the sound of it, and very scared. Then, because his hearing was tuned-in to the source, he picked up a young man shouting, _"Shut up, kid!"_ By now Clark was able to see what was happening. Three San Bernardino County Sheriff's cars, along with two other unmarked vehicles, were converged on a small bungalow in a low-rent area north of Base Line Rd., almost at the border with Fontana. This was an area that still had large tracts of open farmland and orange groves interspersed between the I-10 and I-15 freeways, the Kaiser Steel facilities, the strip malls, and the suburban sprawl that was encroaching on most of the remaining open land. This had once been an area rich with citrus groves and famous orange packing houses, of vegetable farms and open chaparral country, and large, venerable rail yards belonging to the Santa Fe and Union Pacific, and the Southern Pacific. Now it was primarily blighted neighborhoods filled mostly with poor Mexican and Black families, along with a fair amount of second-generation Asian immigrants, living in classic old California bungalows juxtaposed against ostentatious multi-story houses on tiny plots of land priced well beyond the means of any of the older local families. And, unfortunately, the area was also home to numerous gangs, the largest being the Verdugo Flats gang. At first, Clark figured he must have stumbled upon a gang-sweep arrest situation, but then as he drew closer, his blood froze: there was a little boy, no older than Jason, sitting on the couch in the living room of the house. No more than four feet away from the boy there was a sheriff's deputy, weapon drawn and pointing at the crying child, and screaming at him to shut up. Quickly scanning the house, he saw that the only other occupants were another deputy pointing a gun at a woman in the bathroom who was sitting on the toilet. The other deputy was screaming at her, "WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE'D THEY GO?" The woman was so petrified that all she could do was tremble. Scanning the rest of the area, Clark saw that there were two other deputies searching the backyard with flashlights, and there was also a television news crew entering the house. The child was crying loudly, wailing at the top of his lungs as only a seven year-old can. "Shut up or I'm gonna take you to jail right now!" the deputy screamed at him. "Where's your homies, huh, kid? _Donde esta hermanos?"_

Meanwhile, the deputy covering the woman was wrestling her from the toilet seat by her arm, and throwing her to the floor. "We know you're dealing, lady. Where you keeping it, huh?" he yelled at her.

Superman found himself in a torn state of mind. Hovering silently in the darkness about 80 feet above the house, he watched carefully as the situation unfolded. On the surface of it, he could see nothing wrong, amiss, or criminal going on in the little house. He widened his scan to the surrounding yard, and the immediate area, but saw nothing unusual or suspicious. When he heard the woman start sobbing, he returned his attention to the house.

"You're under arrest for suspicion of cultivating a controlled substance. You been growing marijuana out of this house, and you're going to jail for it!" the deputy screamed at her.

Sure enough, even from high above, Clark could make out the thick, skunky smell of pot wafting up through the night air. But, something wasn't adding-up here. There was no marijuana growing around the house with the exception of two scraggly little plants in a lean-to shed attached to the side of the bungalow, where some yard tools were stored. There was nothing in or under the house. The rooms were neat and reasonably clean, although the house was a bit spare when it came to homey touches. The Christmas tree in the front room was a live one, but it was small and bedraggled, reminding Superman of the pathetic little tree Charlie Brown had picked out in _A Charlie Brown Christmas_. There was a small, old Toyota Corolla in the driveway that needed a new paint job and some body work, and a child's bike was on the back porch. But that was all, other than the normal, harmless possessions that would be found in most homes.

The child screamed again, and this time the deputy covering him lost it.

"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE SHIT OR I'M TAKING YOU TO JUVENILE HALL RIGHT NOW!!!" he bellowed, his gun hand trembling with rage.

At that, Superman decided he'd seen enough. He was loathe to ever interfere in police situations, but this was one situation that was in real danger of spiraling out of control quickly. Clark had personally seen that happen more times than he cared to remember, usually when it was too late for him to make a difference. Now that he was a father to a child just about the same age, he felt his blood begin to boil. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd probably regret the actions he was about to take.

But tonight, he decided he didn't give a damn.

First and foremost in his mind, which he had already switched to super-speed, was the concern that ANY action he took could endanger the child. A cop with a nervous trigger finger in a shaky situation was more dangerous than almost anything except facing an enemy soldier on the battlefield. If Superman suddenly "appeared" between the cop and the boy, he could certainly intercept potential gunfire, but he might not be able to catch every ricochet, or stop the second cop from firing. The same could happen if he burned the cop's gun-hand with heat-vision. Thinking fast, he glanced very closely at the deputy's weapon: it was a standard 9mm automatic. That would make Clark's job a bit easier. Concentrating his heat-vision in combination with his X-ray vision and telescopic focus, he was able to melt the weapon's firing pin well to the rear of the gun's chamber, rendering the weapon useless. Had he heated it any closer to the bullet in the chamber, he feared the heat could cause it to discharge. Once the gun was rendered inert, Clark darted down into the scene, right through the open front door faster than the eye (or the approaching video crew) could see.

Suddenly, Superman was standing in the room, protectively between the deputy and the child.

For just a moment, everything went silent.

The deputy who suddenly found himself pointing his gun at Superman, looked up.

And up.

The Kryptonian seemed to tower over the cop. He dominated the room with his presence, and the stunned deputy, along with his partner who was just dragging the woman out of the bathroom in handcuffs, seemed to be experiencing a jumble of thoughts and emotions, most of which was surprise. But, after looking at the superhero's expression, the deputies both began to feel a far more unusual emotion. They started to get scared.

Because the Man of Steel looked, for lack of a better term, royally pissed!

Schooling his expression into something more neutral (and somehow far more frightening) Superman calmly reached out and gently took the first deputy's weapon from his trembling hands and quietly, with a small smile on his face, bent the gun into a nice little piece of modern art. "We don't really want to shoot any children or their parents on Christmas Eve, now do we, Deputy?" Superman said as he handed the now-defunct gun back to its owner. The deputy stared dumbly at his weapon, which now looked as though it could shoot around corners.

It was only then that Superman, along with the sheriffs, noticed that they were being filmed by the video crew, who were shooting for the TV show COPS.

_Great_, thought Clark_. Of all the video crews from all my rescues in all the world, I have to get filmed by __**them.**_

Regaining his bravado, the deputy turned his ire on the caped superhero.

"Hey, I don't know where you think you are, but it ain't Metropolis! You're interfering in police business, and if you…"

"You don't have any children, do you Deputy?" Superman interrupted.

"SHUT UP!" the irked cop yelled at Superman. "I'm in charge here, and I ask the questions, not you!"

By now, the mother was trying to wrestle herself away from the other deputy in an effort to get to her child, who was crying on the couch. That deputy, in a very bad move fueled by bravado and adrenaline, brutally shoved the handcuffed woman to the floor, where she landed face-first, breaking her nose.

That seemed to stop the clock for a moment.

Then her son screamed, "MAMA!" and tried to get to her from his seat on the couch. The first deputy saw this, and unwisely tried to get around Superman with his arm extended in order to collar the kid. Suddenly, the man found himself with his head bumping the ceiling, as a VERY unhappy-looking 'Strange Visitor from Another Planet' grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the floor, gently smacking his head against the aforementioned ceiling.

"THIS IS GOING TO STOP RIGHT NOW!" Superman bellowed.

It was at that moment that the other two deputies, who had been searching the backyard, came back into the house. Neither was prepared for the scene that awaited them: A woman with a bloody face, a screaming child, a deputy with his weapon trained on (_oh, man, was it REALLY?!_) Superman, and Superman holding the other deputy against the ceiling by the front of his shirt.

As the nine people crowded into the small living room tried to figure out what to do next, the deputy who was obviously the commanding officer on this scene entered the room.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, apparently, everyone.

"Your men acting like thugs," ground The Man of Steel through gritted teeth. "I was not aware that the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Department had a policy of deadly force against unarmed children."

"Okay, let's everybody take a deep breath and calm down. Uh, Superman, would you mind putting my deputy down, please?"

Clark glared at both cops for a moment longer before gently returning the now-speechless deputy to the floor. He then approached the woman, who was sobbing through the blood pouring from her nose. Her son was crying quietly beside her where she still lay on the floor. Gently Superman helped the woman to a sitting position on the couch, her hands still cuffed behind her. He then turned his attention to the officer in charge, closing the distance between them and only stopping when he was well within the other man's personal space, hovering over the sheriff in a very intimidating manner. Looking down into the sheriff's face, he carefully "neutralized" his expression in a way that was far more scary than if he'd had his face screwed-up in rage. He was doing it just the way he'd seen Lex Luthor do it (which Lex had modeled after actors like Kevin Spacey and Gary Oldman), and it seemed to be working: the sheriff's pulse rate skyrocketed, and his pores began to dilate, causing sweat to start dotting his brow.

"Would you mind, Sheriff, telling me exactly why your men were using their weapons to threaten a helpless child, not to mention his unarmed mother?"

"Excuse me, _Super_man," the commanding officer spat, "but exactly what business do you have interfering in a police investigation?"

"I heard a terrified child calling me personally for help, and arrived to find an adult with a weapon threatening that child's life," Superman spat back. "As a conscientious citizen, not to mention a dedicated crime-fighter, that makes it my business."

"I thought you were supposed to be on our side," the sheriff sputtered, "not the side of the criminal! What happened to 'Truth, Justice, and the American Way?'"

Superman took in the room around him. The cops were simply stunned. The woman and the child were still sobbing, quietly. And the film crew from COPS was getting every frame on High Definition video. Taking a deep breath, Superman looked at the sheriff.

"Well, to tell you the _truth_," he mocked, "I see no _justice_ here. But I do see the _American Way_ being abused and ignored. And, if you'll forgive the rather dated quote, 'When policemen break the law, then there isn't any law. Just a fight for survival.' And as for this woman being a criminal, why don't we hear her side of the story?"

The Lieutenant looked at the superhero with a combination of contempt and pity.

"She doesn't have any 'side' of the story. She was dealing marijuana out of this house, and she's using it in the presence of her child, in violation of San Bernardino County ordnance."

"And tell me, Deputy," Superman spat back, "exactly where is all this marijuana she's supposed to be dealing? I don't see you carrying any. And I x-rayed the entire house and yard, and I can tell you, in all honesty, there's nothing other than two scrawny little pot plants growing out in the shed. Where'd you get the idea that she was dealing?"

"A tip from an informant," the lieutenant replied blandly. "And simply growing those plants is enough to send her to jail and her kid to Child Protective Services, for cultivation, possession, and use of a controlled substance in the presence of a minor."

At that, the woman spoke up, her voice shaky from the shock she was beginning to experience.

"I am a cancer patient. I have my Medical Marijuana prescription from my oncologist, and I have the state-issued I.D. card, as called-for under California's Proposition 215 and Senate Bill 420. And I can tell you that your 'informant' is probably my ex-husband who is in your jail for armed robbery, spousal abuse, stalking, and threatening to kidnap my son because I put a restraining order on him."

The Lieutenant gave her a contemptuous look. "And San Bernardino County has a Zero-Tolerance policy in place for so-called 'Medical Marijuana.' And as to having a stalker boyfriend, all of you Section-8 leaches have that excuse down pat. So don't try to hide behind that bullshit! "

Superman interposed himself between the Lieutenant and the woman, anger boiling within his voice. "Don't you DARE use that kind of language against this woman or in front of her child."

The sheriff looked incredulously at Superman. "What the Hell gives you the authority to waltz in here and tell me how to do my job?!"

"Well, if you must know, The United Nations, The United States Congress, the U.S. Senate, and the Presidents of most of the nations of the world have all given me discretionary authority to act as I see fit when I see ANY form of crime being committed. And, right now, I see five bullies who think their badges give them the right to trample over the rights of citizens. And I can also tell you that I just X-rayed this woman's purse over there on the bookcase, and she does in fact have both a prescription and a state-issued I.D. card for medical marijuana."

"Well, as I said before," the Lieutenant drawled, "this is my county, and we don't tolerate drug abuse of any…"

"Excuse me, but were you born stupid, or do you have to work at it?" Superman responded in the same drawl.

That simply shocked everyone in attendance into silence, except for one of the video crew, who quietly snickered. The Superman they had come to know from his many appearances on the news would simply never have used such language or tone before. This was a side of the superhero they had no idea existed, and as such found themselves quite frightened at the thought of a Kryptonian angry enough to even raise his voice to a cop, let alone actually manhandle and insult one.

"You know what?" Superman stated, as if coming to a decision. "I think we need a higher authority. I'll be right back. And I would strongly recommend that you deputies stay right here. If I find that you've transported these people from this place before I return, well I think I could guarantee that several major news outlets, especially _The Daily Planet_, would just leap at the chance to expose the kind of contempt for the rights of citizens you sheriff's are displaying. I'll be back in ten minutes. If you do anything to further violate this family's rights, I will personally see your names and faces on the front pages of every major newspaper and on every TV station in America."

And, within the blink of an eye, Superman was gone. Two loud sonic booms were heard less than a second later.

Five minutes later, California's governor found himself and his Humvee flying over the Inland Empire toward Rialto. He still had no clear idea as to why Superman was taking him on such a journey. He had been with his family in his Los Angeles home for the Holidays, when the Man of Steel had rung him on his personal cellphone. This was not completely unheard-of, as Superman had the cell phone numbers of most heads of state around the world. It was the only way he could function as a crime fighter, and it also gave the heads of state a certain sense of involvement with the superhero, and therefore an increased feeling of security.

All Superman had told Hizzhonor was that several county sheriff's were violating the state's Compassionate Use laws and endangering a woman and her child in an overzealous attempt to gain curry with other corrupt elements within the county, state, and federal governments.

"I don't think it's so much a 'Job for Superman' as it is a job for 'The Governator.'" Superman had told the former movie star and bodybuilder. Rather than suffering the indignity of riding in Superman's arms, or worse, piggyback (the idea of which brought to both men's minds the indelicate image of two cartoon superheroes named 'The Ambiguously Gay Duo') the Governor suggested Superman fly him in his Humvee to within a block of the problem, set him down and allow him to drive up to the scene. Superman had quickly agreed.

Traveling at a little over 600 miles per hour, the burly governor nevertheless felt the strong G-forces pressing him against the driver's seat for a few moments as they came up to speed about 15,000 feet off the ground, Superman supporting the large vehicle from underneath. Within five minutes, they were touching-down in a dark cul-de-sac a block away from the house. The Governor immediately drove toward the scene. Finding it was easy: not many homes were surrounded and lit-up by cop cars at this hour on Christmas Eve.

Although all of the deputies were quite stunned as he walked into the door, none was as overjoyed as the woman's young son when the Governor of California stepped into the room.

"Wow! Superman brought The Terminator!" the boy blurted after a moment.

The governor chuckled, and held out his hand to the boy. "What's your name, young man?" he asked with a smile, his trademark Austrian accent thickly coating each word.

"Rodrigo Garcia," the boy replied, shaking the Governor's hand with awe.

"Well, Rodrigo, I'm Arnold. Feliz Navidad." Looking over at the boy's mother, he frowned at the blood still dripping from her nose. "Would you be Mrs. Garcia?"

"Yes, Sir," she responded past the blood and swelling upper lip. She, too, looked rather awed at the presence of the Governor standing in her humble living room.

"What happened to your face?" Arnold asked.

For a moment, she was silent, fear etched clearly in her features. Her eyes darted to the deputy who had knocked her down, then flicked back to the Governor. She was clearly quite terrified. Just then, Superman re-entered the house.

"It's alright. Please tell me what happened," the Governor prompted her.

"I was using the bathroom. All of a sudden, these deputies knocked down the door, and that one came into the bathroom and started trying to pull me off of the toilet. Then he handcuffed me and knocked me down on the floor. I think he broke my nose."

The deputy in question spoke up. "She was resisting arrest. Then she made a sudden move to try to get away, and…"

"You're a liar!" Superman spat. He turned to the Governor. "I was here at that point. She was not trying to resist, she was trying to shield her son from this other deputy, who had his weapon pointed at the boy. This man shoved her to the floor, breaking her nose."

"Has anyone called an ambulance?" the Governor asked.

"I don't think that's necessary," replied the lieutenant, trying to take charge of the conversation.

"And you are…?" the Governor asked.

"Sheriff's deputy, Lieutenant Kilpatrick."

"Well, Lieutenant, when I want your medical opinion, I'll give it to you," Arnold replied, standing up to face the Lieutenant. The Governor had amassed years of practice in training his facial features for maximum effect. The effect was quite intimidating, even though the Governor was a good head shorter than Superman. "You do realize that County ordinances do NOT supercede State laws? As Governor, it's my job to ensure that the laws of the State of California are being applied and obeyed evenly and fairly. That makes me Top Cop around here. And, as such, I am ordering you to stand down in this case. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant? Or," and at this point the Governor got even closer to him, cocked his left hand into a fist, and did a mangled impression of Sheldon Leonard in _It's A Wonderful Life_, "do I hafta slip ya my left for a convincer?"

The video crew from COPS, covering every word, were practically polishing their guaranteed Emmys when the Governor addressed them:

"Why don't you guys make yourselves useful and call for an ambulance? And please, not to stifle the press, but turn that camera off."

Superman knew that what was happening here was unprecedented, but for a moment he entertained the idea of X-raying the camera's tape in order to erase the contents. However, the journalist in him told him that this footage might actually be useful in rallying voter indignation against the corruption of The System, and sympathy for its victims. He was also tempted to offer the woman and her child a flight to the E.R. himself, but felt the ambulance would be a better choice. Her injury was not life-threatening, and the use of an ambulance would be an important part of the paper-trail she would need as evidence to bolster her case against the county, should she need to file charges. As the video crew started pulling out their cellphones, Superman turned to the Lieutenant.

"Tell you what, Lieutenant. If you're willing to drop this case right now, I think I can offer you and your deputies a Christmas present that might just be what you need, not to mention helping the community."

All of the cops, as well as the Governor and the woman, turned their attention on the superhero.

"What do you have in mind?" the Lieutenant asked.

"About three miles from here," Superman began, "near the corner of Baseline and Willow, there's an apartment where a large batch of methamphetamine is being cooked even as we speak. The place is filled with the stuff, and there's a very real danger of an explosion, which would wipe out a large portion of the buildings on that block, not to mention destroying many innocent lives. I'm sure if you were to bring in such a case, you and your deputies would be heroes, not to mention bringing honor to the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Department and potentially saving lives and property, and keeping Christmas safe for all the people who live over there."

The Lieutenant seemed to think about it for a moment. "Those apartments are all for Section 8 renters, not mention being owned by the County and the Sheriff's Department. Are you sure there's meth being cooked there right now?"

Superman smiled and tapped his nose. "The nose knows," he responded.

Looking each other deeply in the eyes, the Lieutenant came to a decision: "Okay, we'll take care of it. Apparently we don't have a strong enough case here to prosecute." At that point, the Governor smiled at him, albeit somewhat gruffly. The Lieutenant pointed to one of the deputies. "Downes, uncuff the lady. See to it that she and her son get safely into the ambulance. Ma'am, I want to apologize to you and your son for the problem we've caused you tonight. We handled this poorly and, well… I'm sorry." He took a deep breath, then looked at his deputies. "The rest of you, we're heading for…?" he glanced at Superman, who gave him the address where the meth lab was located, which he repeated to the other officers. The house was quickly emptied as the sheriffs headed for their cars, the crew from COPS hot on their heels. Superman turned to the woman and her son.

"You'll be fine, now." He turned to the boy, who had sat wide-eyed on the couch throughout the entire exchange. "Son, I need you to help me out. I need you to be strong for your mom, ride with her in the ambulance, and help her through her illness. It's a tough time for her right now. Can you do that for me?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

Superman smiled at him. "You did a brave thing tonight, calling me for help. I think your mom is lucky to have such a good son as you." He stuck his hand out to the boy, giving him a firm, yet gentle handshake. Giving them a wide, gleaming smile, he headed for the front door. "Merry Christmas, you two!" With that, he took off into the sky.

The mother and her son, as well as the Lieutenant and the Governor, watched in awe as Superman lifted into the darkness. Turning back to The Governor, the Lieutenant said, "I never thought Christmas would wind up like this."

Arnold looked at him. "That makes two of us. Do you mind if I follow along on this meth lab bust?"

"Not at all, Sir," the Lieutenant responded. "There's one thing I'd like to ask though, if it's not too much trouble."

Arnold nodded, prompting the Lieutenant's request. The Lieutenant actually looked… sheepish

"My son loves your movies. I was just wondering if I could get your autograph for him?"


	10. Stockingstuffer!

_This short chapter is sort of a "stocking-stuffer." After all, Christmas wouldn't be complete without the stockings, and this is what is in mine. And Clark's. And Clerks! By the way, I don't own CLERKS or its characters, all of who are part of the Viewaskewniverse. They were the only ones open at this hour on Christmas morning._

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It was after 3 AM when Clark finally landed on the balcony of his apartment. He was, simply put, exhausted. The physical burdens of being a superhero were tiring enough, but it was the emotional and intellectual strain of dealing with the myriad emergencies, problems, and occurrences that really had him tuckered out. Part of his journey home had been interrupted when several miles of power lines in Indiana had been brought down due to heavy ice formation, leaving thousands of people without electricity on this very cold night. It had taken him only about 30 minutes to replace the fallen wires, welding them together with heat-vision, and then another 10 minutes to alert the power companies as to the locations of his fixes so that they could take over and do a proper repair job. Thanks to his help, most of the populace of that section of Indiana had no idea their power had burped until they awoke Christmas morning to find their digital clocks flashing "12:00" at them.

Crawling under the afghan on his couch, Clark looked happily up at his Christmas tree, the lights from the treetop model of the Starship_ Enterprise_ winking from the ship's many decks, accented by the soft blue glow from her deflector dish and the powerfields of her twin warp nacelles. As his eyes began closing, almost against his will, his last thought was of the snow flurries beginning to dust the windowsills and balcony outside. For the first time in many years, Clark would enjoy a white Christmas.

About thirty minutes later, his sleep was penetrated by a piercing, high-pitched sound. Opening his eyes, but still remaining under the afghan, Clark listened carefully, wondering if this was some practical joke on the part of Lex, or if it was some other, new emergency. The sound came again, and Clark quickly identified it: a yowling cat. Stuffing his head under the pillow, he tried to go back to sleep. Apparently, the cat had other ideas.

It yowled again. Loudly.

And, Clark could tell, it wasn't a cat. It sounded more like a kitten. With a groan, Clark got up off the couch, and opened the window in the kitchen, which faced down into the alley. There, three stories below, in the now thick, blowing snowfall, was a small, very young kitten, crying loudly with a tone of distress. "Hey, kitty!" Clark whispered loudly. The kitten looked up toward his voice, and yowled again. "Shush! Quiet!"

Apparently the kitten didn't understand English. It cried out again, just as loud as before, and appeared to be pawing a mound of snow. Again, it looked up at Clark and yowled. Blinking his eyes to clear the sleep away, Clark used his telescopic vision and x-ray vision to zoom-in and examine the kitten. The kitten tried to dig into the mound of snow again. Looking at the mound, Clark quickly saw the reason: an adult female cat, obviously this kitten's mother, was lying under the mound.

She was dead.

"Oh, my God," muttered Clark. Without a second's hesitation, he drifted down out of the window and landed in the alley. The kitten looked like it wanted to run, but some instinct kept it rooted to the spot next to its mama. Clark approached quickly and quietly, speaking in a low, soothing voice. "Hey, Little One, what happened, huh?" The kitten yowled in response. Quickly scooping up the tiny ball of beige fluff, Clark carefully examined the mother cat. She was definitely dead, and judging by both her injuries and the path that she had taken to get here, she must have been hit by a car. For a moment, Clark felt a twinge of fury that anyone would do that to an innocent animal, but then he realized that, with the snow falling as heavily as it was, and the icy road conditions, it was most likely an accident, and it was possible the driver hadn't even realized what they had done. The mama cat had obviously been a feral alley cat, and had crawled back to her and her kitten's hiding place to die. Clark held the tiny, trembling ball of fluff next to his chest, and despite himself, all that had transpired over the last few days, especially the pain of dealing with Mr. Allen's loss and rescue, and now seeing this little tragedy in the predawn darkness of Christmas morning, Clark simply couldn't hold back, and he began to weep. Scooping up the remains of the mama cat from the mound of snow she was under, and holding her young kitten close to his chest, he rose into the air and re-entered his apartment through the kitchen window. Gently he placed the mama's body on the kitchen floor, took the kitten into the living room with him, sat down of the couch with the kitten in his hands, and just plain cried his eyes out for almost 15 minutes.

Finally the emotions had run their course, and the kitten had by now curled-up in Clark's hands, and was purring deeply in its' sleep. The kitten was a long-haired Himalayan with the deepest blue eyes Clark had ever seen on a cat.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh? I don't have time to keep a cat. I'm a very busy reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper. And that's just my day job!"

"Gaa?" the sleepy kitten asked.

"Lord, is this some kind of misguided Christmas gift? I don't have time for pets," Clark said to the ceiling. Looking back down at the kitten, Clark moaned. "What am I gonna do with you, huh?"

The kitten promptly curled-up in his lap and went back to sleep.

Ten minutes later, Superman touched-down at the only convenience store he could find open at 4:30 AM on Christmas morning: a Quick Stop in Leonardo, New Jersey. He had been amazed that nothing had been open in Metropolis or New York, and didn't want to go as far as Gotham. So, he found himself, in full costume, entering the little Quick Stop. There was nobody else around, and he was so tired he hadn't even bothered to bring along a set of civvies to change into. As he entered the store, he saw the clerk behind the counter, dozing fitfully while Christmas music played quietly in the background. The clerk, whose nametag identified him as "Randall," had a line of drool emerging from his open mouth and dripping onto his shirt. Superman gently cleared his throat.

Randall awoke with a start, looked around at the source of the disturbance, and made eye contact with Superman. Silently, his eyebrows went up. After looking the caped man up and down, he remarked, "You're a little late for Halloween. This is Christmas, I think."

"Thank you, Randall," Superman smiled. "I'm well aware of that. Can you tell me where the cat food is?"

"Uh… it's down on the last aisle, midway down the shelf. Do you often dress up as Superman on Christmas?" he replied, making no attempt to hide a smirk.

Not one to be outdone, Clark levitated a foot off of the floor, and floated down the main aisle. "Only when I fly," he retorted with a grin.

"Holy….Toledo! It's really _you?_" Randal blurted.

"Yes, Randall, there really is a Superman," Clark chuckled.

Leaning back in awe, Randall literally fell backward off of his stool, landing with a crash on the floor.

Clark glanced back at Randall, briefly verifying that the young man was unhurt, then continued to the aisle where he found some canned cat food. He also grabbed some milk from the cooler and a couple of cans of tuna nearby, before returning to the counter.

Randall couldn't help but look at his groceries with open curiosity.

"I found a tiny kitten whose mama had just been killed by a car. So, I figure I've got to get some food into her before I decide what to do with her," the superhero explained to the clerk. "You wouldn't have a home for a cute little orphaned kitten…would you? Randall?" Superman asked, trying his best to do an impression of puppy-dog eyes.

Randall quickly shook his head.

"Sorry, Superman. I have a hard enough time just taking care of myself, let alone trying to take care of a dependent animal."

"Well, it was worth a shot…" the caped superhero mumbled.

"Uh…," Randall began, hesitant to question the most powerful man on Earth. "Um, I take it you don't have any pets?"

"Well, not really, no. Why?" Superman asked.

"Then I assume you don't have a litter box?" Randall gulped.

"It's okay, Randall, I don't mind friendly advice," he prompted with a tired smile.

"Okay, well you're gonna need a box and some cat litter."

Superman snapped his fingers, the invisible light turning-on over his head. "Of course! Let's just put it this way: where I was raised, we kept the cats… outdoors. Where they could do their job. I've never really kept one as an indoor pet before. For obvious reasons," he finished, gesturing down to his Suit.

"The cat litter is down below where you found the canned food. But we don't carry any litter boxes. You could probably make-do with an aluminum roasting pan for a day or two until the stores open."

Returning to the counter with the litter and a roasting pan, Superman dug into the back pocket of his cape. His eyebrows went up as he caught sight of the price on the litter.

"Man, this stuff ain't cheap, is it?" he remarked, somewhat stunned.

"No, especially considering it's just clay out of the ground," Randall replied.

"What are the damages?" Superman asked, unfolding some bills.

"No, don't even try…" Randall began.

Superman sighed. He got this a lot. It was certainly a nice gesture, but his Midwestern upbringing just wouldn't allow him to accept freebies.

"No, really, Randall, I insist on paying."

"Superman. Please. I own half of this store. I don't mind working Christmas morning, because we turn a decent profit. There's always someone who forgot the milk or cranberry sauce, and we get the sales while everyone else is home. So I don't mind. But, I will say that seeing you here, in my store, on Christmas morning is on the same level of cool as meeting the real Santa Clause, were he to actually exist. In fact, I'm still not sure this isn't a dream. So, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll take your money. But," he began ringing-up the items, "could I talk you into doing something that would prove to me that this wasn't all a dream? 'Cause I tell you, Dante, not to mention Jay and Silent Bob, are never gonna believe you were here."

Clark looked at him askance for a moment before carefully replying, "Uhhh… o-kay, what did you have in mind?"

Reaching down under the counter, Randall pulled out a long, black crowbar. For a second, Clark wondered if the clerk was going to assault him with it, not that it would've harmed him.

"I keep this back here on the odd chance I'll have to defend myself, or help somebody with their flat tire. I've never needed to use it. Would you mind…" Randall paused, gulped, and had the decency to look embarrassed. "Would you be willing to… y'know…" he began making a feeble 'bending' motion with his hands.

Superman simply had to laugh, which he did deeply and joyfully. He gently clapped Randall on the shoulder before taking the proffered crowbar. "Glad to," he smiled.

He then proceeded to bend the heavy crowbar into a shape very similar to the stylized "S" that was the crest of The House of El, and which had become a symbol of hope for the people of Earth. He then grabbed the end of the crowbar, twisted it in his fist into a circular shape that was perpendicular to the length of the iron. When he placed it down on the counter, the circular portion acted as a base, and the crowbar stood upright of its own accord. He gestured at it with a flourish.

"One totally ruined crowbar, useable as a paperweight or the base of a lamp," Superman chuckled.

Taking the now-unique iron paperweight/lamp in his hands, Randall looked at Superman with undisguised awe. Superman extended his hand, and Randall recovered his wits, and returned the handshake.

"Superman, before you go, one last question, if I may?"

The superhero's eyebrows went up, and he nodded assent. Randall looked pointedly at the items on the counter.

"Would you like paper or plastic?"


	11. Stocking stuffer 2

7:45 AM.

CHRISTMAS DAY

The sound of his doorbell brought Jimmy Olsen out of a sound sleep. He tried to ignore it, but then his muzzy mind explained to him what day it was, and he rose groggily from his nice, warm bed and stumbled toward the hallway of his modest apartment, still in his Lycra bikini briefs. Yes, James Bartholomew Olsen, Chief Photographer for The Daily Planet, was a closet Lycra fetishist. _Hey_, he figured, _why should girls be the only ones to get to wear sexy, sensuous underwear?_ He might not have a girlfriend (or boyfriend, for that matter, as he was always open-minded) but at least he got to enjoy some pleasant sensations while wearing more-or-less conventional clothing during the day. Without even looking, he grabbed his robe from the coat rack in the corner near the bedroom door, donned the robe (inside out by accident) and made his way to the front door. His red hair was sticking out at all angles. As he entered the front room, the smell of his Douglas Fir Christmas tree greeted him, and he smiled tiredly. It had been a long night for Jimmy. He had spent much of it volunteering at a nearby homeless shelter, and had been rewarded for his efforts with some very good turkey dinner, some of which he still had in the fridge. As he had no close family, he had bought a present for himself the day before: a new video game system, along with some recent DVD's. His plan for this Christmas Day was to enjoy himself with a rare, quiet day on the couch in front of his widescreen plasma TV, one of his most prized possessions.

The knocking came again, a bit more insistently this time.

Jimmy looked through the peep-hole, and was rather surprised to find one of his two best friends, Clark Kent, out in the hall. Quickly Jimmy flung open the door.

"Clark! Wow, what are you doing here at this hour of the morning?"

Clark gave him a slight frown, before breaking into a big grin. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Jim!"

Chagrined, Jimmy stepped back to allow Clark to enter. He was carrying a small, wrapped package. Jimmy beckoned him to the couch. "Sorry for my appearance, Clark, but I wasn't expecting company today. Aren't you with your family? Or… something?"

"Well, actually Jim, that's why I came by. Oh, by the way, I have a couple of presents for you. Here's one of them," he said, handing Jim the medium-sized package. It was wrapped in silvery wrapping, and was rather heavy.

"Oh, Clark, you didn't have to do that…"

"Nah, nah, nah, I won't have any of that, kiddo," Clark stated. Jimmy looked at him for a moment. This didn't seem like the klutzy, stuttering Clark he was used to seeing at the office. He seemed relaxed (the T-shirt and jeans helped), and even somehow…taller. And his voice lacked the squeakiness it normally had.

"Go ahead, open it!" Clark smiled, hands behind his back.

Jimmy needed no further urging, and quickly opened the package. Inside was a box, unadorned except for a card, which read, 'To Jim Olsen, photojournalist and best friend, who has the eye of an artist, the soul of a poet, and the love of photographic history. Here is a Vision To See The Treasured Past. Merry Christmas, Clark Kent.'

Opening the box, Jimmy was stunned to find an antique, mint-condition Graflex Speed Graphic 4X5 press camera.

"Oh my God! Clark, this is a Speed Graphic! This is the kind of camera they shot news photos with for decades! WOW!! Thank you!" Before he could restrain himself, Jimmy grabbed Clark in a bear hug that the Kryptonian could actually feel crushing his ribs!

"Oh, yes! I have a present for you, too." Jimmy said. "It's under the tree, go find it!"

"Jimmy, I never took you for a traditionalist. This tree is lovely! Who are all these other presents for?" Indeed, there were several other wrapped gifts under the tree. Clark quickly found his, a flat, wrapped package about… it figured… eight inches by ten inches. Clark quickly opened it up, and was stunned to see in beautiful Black & White, a framed photo of himself and his son, Jason. It had obviously been taken one day in the Bullpen at work. Jason and Clark were huddled together over one of Clark's stories in the newspaper. Jason had his index finger tracing the page, obviously reading, and Clark was holding him from slightly behind, and clearly reading along with him. In the background, slightly out of focus due to the image's shallow depth-of-field, was Lois. Even with the soft focus, it was clear that she was secretly watching them, an expression of contentment on her face. To anyone looking at the image Clark held in his hands, the parental connection would be glaringly obvious.

"I hope it's okay that I shot that without your knowing it. You guys just looked so…" Jimmy couldn't find the words, but he looked at Clark with a mixture of affection and uncertainty. A second later Clark had swept Jimmy up in a return hug. "Like I said, Jim, you have the eye of an artist. I'll treasure this always."

For a moment the two friends just looked at each other, before they both began to laugh together as only two old friends can.

"Which brings me to my second present. Now, I'll tell you right out, this present comes with a kind of… price tag," Clark said.

"Uhhh… like, whaddya mean?" Jimmy asked, uncertain where Clark was going with this.

"Well, Jim, first let me ask you this: Did you have any major plans for today? I know it's ridiculously short notice, but I could really use your help right now."

"Hey, Clark, of course! Whatever you need. What are best friends for?" Jimmy stated flatly.

Clark let out the breath he had been holding. _So far,_ he thought, _so good. My sinister plot is working!_ "Well, what I need for you to do is watch Jason for a couple of hours this morning. Are you game?" Clark asked.

"Sure! What… are you and Lois going out on a story or something? On Christmas Day?" Jimmy responded, clearly confused.

"Well, we need to head out for a little while, and it's not like it's anything for the paper, but if it works out, well, we'll have one hell of a story when we get back!" Clark was trying not to grin like a goofball, but he was clearly having a hard time keeping a straight face. Jimmy seemed to be steamrollered for a moment at Clark's uncharacteristic use of profanity, however mild.

"Clark, I am at your disposal," Jimmy smiled, placing his hand over his heart in a rather gallant, and somewhat silly, gesture.

"Excellent. James Olsen, you've just earned your second present," Clark declared.

Jimmy looked a bit taken aback at that remark, but said nothing. Clark began speaking rapidly. "Okay, first things first. I need you to get dressed. And dress warmly, it's cold out there."

"Be out in two minutes," Jimmy stated, heading for the bedroom. Sure enough, two minutes later, Jimmy emerged, dressed casually in khakis and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo for _The Daily Planet_ softball team.

"Get your jacket, and we'll head out," Clark said.

"Oh, wait a sec! Who's gonna be there?" Jimmy asked as he pulled his down jacket from the hall closet.

"Uhhm… well, Lois and Jason, of course. And I'm pretty sure Perry and his wife, and probably Lois's sister and her folks." Clark replied, counting each one off on his fingers. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, I was going to give them these at work," Jimmy said as he scooped up some presents from under the tree. "But, this way, I can give them to everyone personally."

"Ah! Good thinking," Clark responded.

Jimmy came to face Clark, the presents (all framed photos by the look of them, with one exception, which appeared to be the size of a DVD case) in his arms in a small bundle.

Clark put his arm around Jimmy's shoulders, and led him to the small balcony overlooking the street, eight stories below. Turning the younger man to face him, Clark looked Jimmy in the eye. For a moment, Clark looked… uncertain. But it passed almost before Jimmy could register it.

"James Olsen. You have been a dear and true friend. You offered me your friendship from the first moment I came to _The Planet_, and you've always been there for me when I needed to talk to someone. I, uhh… I have to admit to you, I haven't been as forthcoming with you as I should have been. But, there were reasons for that. But, now, things are different. You are a fine young man, a man of wisdom and decency. So, I want to give you the only other gift that truly means anything to me. The gift of my complete friendship and honesty."

Jimmy, to his credit, remained completely neutral, his face revealing nothing.

"I will admit," Clark continued, "that I sometimes have a flair for the… dramatic. But, right now, I can't think of any better way to reveal this… gift to you. I only hope you'll forgive me."

"Forgive you? Forgive you for what?" Jimmy asked, uncertain as to his friend's intent.

"Are you ready to go?" Clark asked, seemingly without connection.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Shouldn't we head down to catch a cab?" Jimmy asked.

"We can get there much faster… my way." Clark stated, his voice much deeper than usual. "Just relax." Clark stepped behind his young friend, who felt a sudden, brief swirl of wind but was unable to see what was happening due to his facing forward position.

Taking Jimmy by the waist, Clark suddenly carried both of them into the air. As they cleared the rooftops, Jimmy turned his head and found himself looking into the eyes of his other best friend: _Superman!_

For a few endless moments, Jimmy simply stared at the Kryptonian. Then, slowly, his face broke into a wide, beaming smile. "I knew it!!! I knew it was you! It had to be! My God, Clark, you really _are_ Superman. Wow!"

That brought Clark to a sudden, shocked stop. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Jimmy, are you telling me you knew? All along? You knew I was … Superman? And you never said anything?" Clark found this more shocking than Perry's outing him the other night.

"Clark, of course I never said anything. I knew the ramifications of that knowledge. I figured you had you own good reasons for keeping your identity secret, and I valued your friendship. I wasn't about to say anything until and unless you invited me to. But, I will say, I'm glad Superman turned out to be you!" And with that, Jimmy Olsen kissed The Man of Steel on the cheek. Promptly, Clark wiped his cheek off with his sleeve before looking at Jimmy for a moment before he began to crack-up, laughing with a freedom that he hadn't felt in a long time.

As they flew along, Clark asked his friend, "How did you figure it out?"

"DUH! Glasses... no glasses... glasses again…a spit curl? Hell_oo!_ What the hell kind of a disguise is that? I mean, okay, maybe for those who only ever meet you once, but I see you every day. Plus, I'm a photographer, a trained observer. Just because I look like a nerd doesn't mean I'm stupid. And no bow tie jokes, please."

"And here you've kept my secret all along," Clark stated, awe and respect in his voice.

"Well, man, I figured you'd tell me in your own good time. I have to admit, it's a pretty cool Christmas present. Can I ask you a question, though?"

Clark gave his friend a squeeze around the waist. "Anything, pal."

Jimmy seemed to be trying to frame the question. "Who… I mean, who are you? Wait, that's not how I … I mean, what should I call you?"

The superhero gave him a look like he'd grown a second head, before smiling like it was all a big joke. "Think of it this way: Clark Kent is who I am. _Superman_ is what I do. Basically, I think of Superman as a job title. And frankly, just between you and me? I think the name _Superman_ is very pretentious. It's still me, Jim. I grew up in Kansas. Jonathan and Martha Kent were my parents. Well, Martha still is my mom, of course. They adopted me when I first landed here. I was about three years old."

Jimmy looked thoughtful. "It all falls into place, now. The disappearances. The somewhat twisted stories of your life. I guess you really didn't see llamas on your sabbatical, huh?"

"Jimmy, most of the llamas I've ever personally seen are at the Metropolis Zoo!"

"Y'know, _Clark,_ I'll never forget the first time you rescued me, off the parapet at Hoover Dam as it collapsed. You flew us down Black Canyon about half a mile. As we heard the dam fail, you turned us around, hovering in midair 600 feet over the gorge. We both looked at each other in amazement, then you held me out at arm's length and said, 'Go ahead, Kid, shoot!' Too bad I didn't have the proper exposure set, those shots would won me a Pulitzer," the young photojournalist mused.

"It's just a good thing I set you down in time to divert the flooding, or those shots would have cost a lot of lives," the newswriting superhero retorted.

Jimmy actually felt Clark shudder, so close was Clark holding him. "Man, I was really arrogant back then," Clark admitted.

"I think," Jimmy began at length, "that you have shown great restraint and wisdom in regards to your powers. You are a very good man, and I think it's safe to say that Lois, Perry, and I would never have been able to love you if you were anything other than truly decent, humble, and kind. You know, as weird as this will sound, there really is a kind of… holiness about you…"

"No, no no no! I'm just a guy like you. So I have these powers. So what. That's just a biological effect. It's NOT holy. It's just… a gift from God, like the many gifts everyone else on this planet has. Mine are just somewhat unusual, due to the fact that I'm an extraterrestrial."

Jimmy looked at Clark as they flew along through the sky, undisguised wonder on his face. "You really believe that, don't you? It's not just false modesty, is it?" Jimmy asked.

"I have to. If I didn't feel that way, I'd be far more dangerous than even Lex Luthor!"

All too soon Clark and Jimmy began their descent toward Lois' home on Riverside Drive. The dock was still there, although there was no longer the seaplane moored alongside. Not long after Superman had returned, Richard White had been able to read the writing on the wall, and had painfully, but gently broken his engagement to Lois Lane. He was however, as Lois had told Superman that first evening they had spoken, a good man. As painful as it was for him, Richard understood Lois' feelings. Lois had been pleased when Richard had asked if he could still be a part of Lois and Jason's lives, and she had gladly allowed him to do so. Richard could not, for all his pain, find it in himself to hate Clark. Part of that was his own natural generosity, but part of it was also that he knew that his love for Jason was far stronger than his resentment for Superman. Over the next year, Richard and Superman had become something of friends, and had even started their own working relationship. Richard had since transferred to the _Planet's_ offices in Washington, D.C. as editor of their Political Bureau. There were times when Richard was called upon to get an interview with the Kryptonian that, for logistical reasons, Lois might not be able to land. And, in so doing, Richard had found that Superman felt great respect for this human who had raised his child, and had made a point of allowing their relationship to grow into a real friendship.

As a result, Clark was rather surprised to see that the seaplane was nowhere in sight. Clark knew that Richard was now involved in a serious relationship with Lois' cousin, Chloe Sullivan. Still, something in his memory had the impression that they were going to make an appearance here today. Landing on the back porch, Clark, still in his Suit, knocked on the French doors that lead into the den. Quickly, Lois approached and opened the doors, with Jason hot on her heels. However, before they could say anything, they both caught sight of Jimmy Olsen standing next to the Caped Superhero, and for a moment were too surprised to speak. After a beat, Superman and Jimmy looked at each other, shrugged, and simultaneously said, "Merry Christmas!" To Lois, they almost looked like they had rehearsed it.

"Uh… Hi! C'mon in!" she backed away from the doors, allowing both men to enter. "Superman, what brings you to my house? Jimmy, what's going on? Is he delivering you as a Christmas present?"

That got a laugh out of Superman, Jimmy, and even Jason, who was all but peeing in his PJ's with excitement, but who, like his mom, was trying to keep his familiarity with the superhero on the down-low due to Jimmy's presence.

For a moment, Superman and Jimmy looked at each other. A very secret look, it seemed to Lois, who rarely missed anything. She could see the twinkle in both men's eyes, but couldn't for the life of her figure out what was going on.

Jimmy finally broke the ice. He handed Lois the group of presents. "Here, Lois, these should go under the tree." Lois took the gifts with a flustered "Thank you," but made no move to leave. She was looking at Superman as though she was trying to communicate some private question. Jimmy saw this, of course, and decided the time had come for some fun. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Clark's horn-rimmed glasses, and handed them to him.

"Here, these almost fell out of your cape on the flight over," he stated in a deadpan voice. He then looked right at Lois, and _winked_.

Lois Lane, for one of the few times in her life, was momentarily speechless. She looked from one man to the other, then back to the first. Both simply smiled sweetly at her before the dam broke, and they both dissolved into gales of laughter. Clark managed to get to the couch before falling over, and Jimmy simply collapsed onto the floor. Both men roared with laughter, and Clark even pointed his finger at the expression on Lois' face, choking on fits of giggling.

Shaking her head at the both of them, she finally screwed her face up into a convincing expression of disgust. "Oh, you…you!"

Clark lifted his head up from the couch. "Who are you calling a 'You-you?!'"

At that, Jason began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Sorry, Lois," Jimmy began between aftershock giggles. "He came over to my place this morning and, uhhh… came out, as it were."

"Jimmy," Lois stated flatly, "the only person in this room who needs to come out is _you!_"

"Come out of what?" Jason asked.

"Nothing, sweetie. It's just a figure of speech," Lois advised her son.

Jimmy looked slightly stricken, but recovered quickly. "Wait a minute. You knew?" he asked, clearly caught off guard.

"The bow tie pretty-much gives you away, Kiddo," she cracked.

Jimmy looked at Clark as though he'd been betrayed.

"Hey, Jim, I never said anything. I swear to God!" Clark defended, raising his hands in surrender. Jimmy looked between his two best friends for a moment, consternation clear on his face.

"Oh, come on, James, it's just us," Lois explained. "We're your family. We love you, but do you really think we don't see how you melt into a puddle every time LeVar Burton appears on TV?"

At that point, Clark came over to Jim, put his arm around Lois, and said, "Jimmy, as far as I'm concerned, I have only two words about your preferences: 'So What!'" Before anything more could be said, Clark opened the doors to the patio. "I have some presents to bring, but I had Jimmy to bring, too, and even Superman has only two hands. I'll be right back, and I'll explain the situation in a few minutes. Gimme a hug, Sport!" He knelt down and Jason ran into his arms. "I'll be back in a flash. Don't anybody move!"

And just that quick, he was gone.


	12. Christmas presents Batch 1

_It's Christmas morning!!! Wake up, wake up! Presents, surprises, and lotsa stuff in store today. I've waited almost a year to write this, as I wanted to time it for the real Christmas. Also, it took a while to come together in my head._

_So, here's the first wave of gifts. Just so you know, not all of them are the kind that can be wrapped up and put under the tree._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lois Lane felt her weight settle as she was gently landed by Superman. As she was wrapped completely up in his cape, she had no idea where she was. She couldn't see, but being enfolded in the cape was the only way she could travel safely with Clark flying at the hypersonic speeds which he was using. It was only a few minutes earlier that she had been with Jason and Jimmy as Clark returned...

He had come in low and fast over Hobbs Bay, carrying the ungainly present with him. Had anyone been looking out onto the water that Christmas morning, they would've seen little more than a rapidly-moving dark dot or blur, as it was still snowing and the visibility was reduced. Mostly all of them would have been looking at the rooster-tail wake forming a few dozen yards behind and not at its' source. Finally, pulling up and coming in to a quick, quiet landing in the yard, Clark set down his burden.

A beautiful old baby-grand piano, complete with huge red bow.

Clark , still dressed as Superman, lifted the piano's lid, and inside was a red linen bag, bulging with what could only be presents. As he approached Lois, Jason, and Jimmy, carrying the bag over his shoulder, he noticed a shared expression of disbelief on the faces of the two adults, but on Jason's face...

Jason looked, for lack of a more accurate term, spooked.

He was kind-of half-standing next to his mom, and half-hiding behind her. Clark immediately realized that this was highly unusual behavior for Jason. Not only from the standpoint of his love of music, but also from the standpoint of his natural gregariousness. And Clark, for once, was ready for it. He might not have had much of his own experience parenting, but he figured he had the world's best examples in Jonathan and Martha Kent.

Looking at all three of them, he said, "We don't we go inside where it's warm, huh?"

All three nodded assent, and they were quickly seated in the den, its French doors giving a clear view out onto the patio, currently dominated by the black piano and primary-red bow. The snow was starting to gently settle on the piano's mirror-finish black top. On the couch sat Lois and Jason, still in his PJ's and snuggled-up against his mom. Jimmy sat in one of the plush armchairs next to the windows, and Clark sat down in the opposite plush chair, drawing Lois and Jason's attention away from the view outside. Clark noticed that Jason's demeanor was still very quiet. He wasn't asking about his presents, or jumping up and down as would be expected of any kid on Christmas morning, especially Jason. Clark, and Lois too, knew that Jason was showing signs of Post-Traumatic Stress, and Clark knew that this was about to be one of his toughest tests as a parent.

"Jason," he began, before looking at the others, "and you guys too, by the way..." He looked back down at Jason, and extended his arms. "I want to tell you a story. Would you like that?"

Jason nodded and slowly began to move toward Clark. A gentle poke in the side from Lois gave him a start. He looked at her, and she gave him a small smile, and nodded in the direction of Superman, who was waiting with open arms. Without further hesitation, Jason jumped into his dad's lap, and cuddled up against his chest.

"First, Jason, let me ask you something. How do you feel when you think of the piano?" Clark watched his son, just...watched. He allowed Jason to form his thoughts. He didn't want to prompt the boy in any way.

At first Jason shrugged. He then pouted a little. Clark simply waited. Jimmy and Lois exchanged a quiet, significant look. At one end of the room, a crackle came from the logs burning in the fireplace. The twinkling lights on the 9-foot tall Noble Fir Christmas tree cast a warm, undulating glow into the room. Finally, the little boy spoke.

"I get a scary feeling. Kind of a gross feeling. I don't know how to explain it. Like I feel... jittery, and kind of sick to my stomach. I don't like pianos anymore," he said in a quiet voice.

Clark leaned slightly toward Jason's face, still holding the boy in his arms.

"You know how I love animals, right?" Clark asked. Jason nodded. "You've met Shelby, Grandma's dog, and you know how much I love him, and our old horse, and our cow and our chickens, right?" Jason nodded again, a bit more energetically.

"Well, waaaay back in the Olden Days, when I was a little kid..." he stopped as Jason began to giggle.

"Are you really, really old, Daddy?" the boy asked, his eyes sparkling.

Clark looked at Lois and Jimmy with an expression that Jimmy would have paid real money to be able to put on film. Looking back down at his son, he decided he could play this game.

"Yeah, Kiddo, I was your age back in the dinosaur days, when we got around with horse-and-buggies, there were only five channels on the TV, and Niagara Falls was brand-new!" Lois and Jimmy began to laugh. "I remember those days," the young photographer chortled.

Jason snapped his head in Jimmy's direction. "You do?" he asked, breathlessly.

Jimmy looked at him, savoring the answer. "Yup! We had to walk to school barefoot in the snow six-miles uphill both directions."

That brought a laugh from Lois, and Clark gestured to Jimmy with his thumb. "See, Jason? He knows what it was like back then! I never lie," he added. This brought a loud "HA!" from Lois.

Clark leaned down and stage-whispered in Jason's ear, "Ignore any comments from the Peanut Gallery over there." Jason giggled again. "Now, where was I?"

"The dinosaur days!" piped Jason.

"Oh, yeah. Well, for this story, it almost was a dinosaur. Y'see, back when I was young and growing up on the farm, we used to have more cows than we do now. And we had a couple of bulls, as well. Anyway, one day the younger bull of the two was out in the pasture that backs up to the front yard near the farmhouse. You've seen it, near the barn. Remember? It has that wooden fence," Clark added. Jason nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, I was about five years old, it was a nice Spring day, and I was in the front yard playing catch with myself."

"With yourself?" the boy asked, cocking his head as he tried to picture what his father meant.

"Yep. I would do it if I didn't have anyone else to play with. Maybe Pa was busy out in the fields, or for whatever reason there just wasn't anyone else who was around. So I would throw the ball out over the pasture about a hundred yards, and then run real fast, and be at the other end in time to catch it! Well, on this particular day, I was running back and forth, and maybe it was because I was wearing a red shirt, I don't know, but that bull just decided that he wasn't gonna have this. I wasn't really paying attention, when suddenly I feel myself being hit from behind. Really hard mind you, and I'm knocked flying through the air for about twenty feet. I landed on my belly and face, and turned over on my back just in time to see this huge bull right on top of me, and before I can react he's trampling me with his front hooves and goring me with his horns. He was snorting and bellowing real loud, and I remember him breaking-off his left horn against my chest. But it still, really hurt. I hadn't yet developed my powers, and so I was still just getting my strength in fits and spurts. And, I think what scared me the most, was the blind rage I felt from this being. This animal, this bull. For some reason, I felt as though he hated me! And it really scared me. Well, somehow I got ahold of his nose-ring with both hands, which gave me some leverage, and I began to kick up into his throat with my right foot, really hard. The first kick, I heard him grunt, but he kept goring me. The second kick, and he kind-of let out a squeal. The third kick broke his skin, and went into his neck. Then I twisted my arms as hard as I could, and he actually spun in the air like those karate fights in the movies where the guys are on wires. Well, your grandma had come rushing out of the house by that time with a rifle, and she was ready to shoot that bull. But, as she approached, it was pretty clear that the bull was not going anywhere. I, uhhh..." at this point, he stole a self-conscious glance at Lois and Jimmy, "Well, by twisting his head like that, I had broken his neck. I had killed him. Now, I didn't mean to, but still... I had killed him."

Jason sat silent and wide-eyed. The adults were pretty riveted, too.

"Well, I freaked. I ran up into the house, and jumped under the covers of my bed, and just tried to hide. Ma came in, and it was all she could do to get the blankets off of me. She was sure I must be severely injured. But, aside from some nasty bruises, I was okay. Of course, my clothes were ruined, but, y'know..." he trailed off with a wave. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Anyway, I wasn't hurt. But boy, was I scared. Not so much of the bull and his attack, but of myself. I mean, up until that point, I knew I could lift trucks and tractors, and run real fast, and all that. And it was kind-of fun. I knew by then that I had to keep it secret, but I really had fun with my powers. But that was the first time I had used my powers to kill something or someone. I felt that what I had done was not only morally wrong, but just plain freakish as well. And you know how much I love animals. I used to pet that bull when he was in his stall, and he never seemed to have anything but gentle feelings toward me. And now, I had hurt him and killed him. And you know what?"

"What?" Jason asked, hanging on every word.

"I felt just the same way you feel right now, when you see that piano out there. Because you remember what happened that day on Lex Luthor's boat. With the man who was trying to hurt your mom. Right? And I'll bet I know why you feel so bad," Clark spoke gently.

"You do?" his son breathed.

"I'll bet it's because you felt that the big bald man who was playing the piano with you was going to be your friend, and because he was nice to you, and played the piano with you, you were ready to like him, because playing the piano with him was fun. Whaddya think?" the superhero asked quietly. Just as quietly, Jason nodded his head.

"Well, later that day, my dad came upstairs and sat with me awhile. He didn't say much, but I remember he had his hand on my back, like he was letting me know he was there for me. Finally he said to me, 'Son, you did nothing to be scared of or ashamed of today. You were in sudden danger, and you protected yourself in the most basic way you know how. You did nothing wrong."

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"But I... I... k-killed the bull! I killed him! I didn't mean to, but I was so scared..," Clark blubbered.

"Clark, tell me something. If there had been a way to get the bull to go away without hurting him, would you have done that instead?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, yeah, Pa. I guess so."

"That's what I'm talking about. Today was something tough that happened, but what you can do is use it as an education. Take a lesson from it. Son, I know we haven't discussed this much with you, but you know you're different from other kids. You have powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal man. At least, that's what it looks like. And I know that in here," Jonathan poked his son in the chest, "you are a fine, well-meaning young man. And I know that you would never use your strength to hurt other people or animals, or any other kind of life-forms. What's most important now, is for you to not let that bull keep you down."

"Whaddya mean, Pa? He's dead." Clark asked, clearly puzzled.

"Oh, I know he is. But to you, deep inside, he's still trampling you. As long as you stay scared of what could happen in the future, that bull will always have control over you. C'mon. I want to show you something," Jonathan beckoned to his young son, coaxing him up out of bed.

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"Well," Clark continued, "Pa took me out to the barn, and made me go up to our other bull, the older one, and pet him. I was scared when I walked up, and looked in his eyes. Up until then, these bulls, and cows, had just been a part of the farm that I saw every day. Now, they had a soul, and will, and personality. And I was scared to face another one. But, with Pa beside me, I reached up, and petted the old bull."

"What did he do?" Jason asked.

"He lowered his head, and rubbed the side of his face against my hand. Just like he always did. Then Pa sat me down in the barn, and pulled a couple of cans of root beer out of the fridge we kept out there, and over a cold root beer, he told me about how they had found me, and what they had figured-out about my powers. But mostly he talked about responsibility. And he let me know that I had a responsibility to use my gifts carefully and wisely, in order to make sure this world was a better place than it was when I first arrived here. And he also let me know, just as I am letting you know right now, that I, and you, have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to be afraid of. I will always be here to help you with your abilities and both I and your mom, and Uncle Perry, and Daddy Richard, and Uncle Jimmy are always here to help you with any questions or worries you have. Okay?" Clark finished.

Jason nodded, and then with a last pout that was on the verge of a cry, he buried his face in his father's chest, holding on while the emotions swept through his little spirit. Clark looked up at Lois and Jimmy, and their eyes were holding back the tears as well.

"Now, Jason, I know how much you love to play the piano. And, you don't have to take it if you don't want to, but that piano was almost ready to be thrown out with the trash."

Jason looked up sharply at this news.

"Yep," Clark explained. "The owner didn't care about it, and was gonna throw it away. He was almost ready to take an axe to it!" Clark breathed in mock horror. "Now, to my way of thinking, something as beautiful as a grand piano, well that's almost a living thing! When I think of all the wonderful music this piano got to sing over the years, and how much more it still has to offer, well I just had to find a home for it. But, I don't know how to play the piano. Do you know anyone who could use it? Because if we can't find anyone who can help this piano to keep singing and enjoying life, well, it'll probably just end up sitting on top of some trash heap somewhere..."

At that, Jason leaped out of Clark's arms. "No, don't throw it away! Can we keep it, Mom? Huh? Can we, please?"

It was all Lois could do to keep a straight face. "Of course we can, honey."

That was all the boy needed to hear. He ran to the French doors and took off onto the patio. A moment later he could be heard trying the keyboard, checking the instrument's tune.

As they rose to follow, Lois buttonholed Clark. "Clark, you shouldn't have bought a grand piano! That must've cost a fortune!"

"No it didn't Lois. It really was free," Clark said.

"Where in the world did you find a baby grand piano for free?" Lois asked skeptically.

Clark looked at her in amusement for a second. "I found it in the freebies section of Craigslist . org."

Lois looked astonished, but then her practical side took over. "How are we gonna fit it through the doors?"

Clark had a mischievous gleam in his eye. With a flourish, he reached into his bag of gifts, and pulled out... a screwdriver. Stepping out into the snow, he gently moved Jason to one side, then faster than the eye could follow, he unscrewed the piano's legs. Once the huge instrument was legless, he simply lifted it with both hands, turning it on end in order to get it in the doors. Quickly Jimmy and Lois cleared a spot at the far end of the room, near the windows. Clark replaced the piano's legs, and then set it upright with it's keyboard toward the windows, allowing natural light to filter through onto the keys and easel.

For a while, all of the other presents were forgotten, as Jason let his fingers coax new life out of the old, venerable, and very well-loved piano.

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Lois' mind returned to the Present as Clark unwrapped her from his cape, keeping a strong grip on her waist. As the cape was being removed, she began to detect the presence of a strange shaking and vibration beneath her feet. Somewhere far below, she could hear traffic, and wind, and even the distant sound of waters lapping on a shore. Finally free of the dark red cape, she looked out and was greeted by the sight of cloud tops, about 350 feet below her vantage point. Ahead of her was a rust-colored pipe railing, with a red anti-aircraft light attached to the pipe. Looking around, she saw she was on a very narrow platform high in the sky, four gargantuan red cables extending away and downward from each corner of the rectangular platform, disappearing in great sweeping arcs into the billowing clouds below. The sun was just peeking over the cloudy horizon, casting the platform, Lois, and Superman and a pure orange glow. Looking to her right, southward, she saw (nearly a mile away) a tower that was identical to the one on which they stood, rearing up out of the clouds below, and joined with the same giant red cables that came back up out of the carpet of white and blue.

They were standing atop the North tower of the Golden Gate Bridge, dawn, Christmas morning.

Pulling herself from his grasp, Lois went to the railing and looked out over the sunrise. _Oh, my God_, she thought. _What did I ever do to deserve such a man as this? He could be a god, if he wanted. He could have anyone, anything. But he chooses to be with me. To be with us,_ she thought. Turning back to Clark, she was quite surprised to see him standing on his head! His red cape was puddled on the metal surface of the platform around him, one part of it tenting up over the handle to the tower's access hatch. He was grinning at her.

"What on Earth are you doing that for?" she laughed.

"To illustrate a point. Lois Lane, I love you with all of my heart, and Jason, too. I don't know what life would be like for me if it weren't for you. Now, I'll tell you right out, life with me will be totally upside-down. That's why I'm doing this. I'm not a normal man, I sure don't lead a normal life. But Lois, if you'll join me, I want to lead my life with you as my partner. If you'll have me.

"Lois Lane, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Reaching into the belt of his briefs, he pulled out a small, simple diamond ring, and held it out to her. He also chose that moment to turn himself right-side up.

Lois Lane was speechless. Taking the ring from his hand, she looked at it for a moment, before sweeping her gaze across the magic carpet of clouds, the towers of the bridge, coming finally to rest on the face of the man she loved. As hard as she tried, Lois couldn't keep her emotions at bay.

Suddenly, she burst into tears.

For a moment, Clark was afraid he'd scared her, or put her on the spot on the worst day of the year to do it. But, before he could process his thoughts further, she had jumped into his arms.

"YesyesyesyesOhMyGawd… YES!!!"

Clark looked like he was the one who was about to cry now. "I'll take that as a 'Yes,'" he joked.

"There's only one problem," Lois moaned.

Alarmed, Clark took her hands in his. "What is it? What problem?"

Looking down, and a little shy all of a sudden, Lois stammered for a moment before looking back up into Clark's eyes. "Well, I always had this weird fantasy. I always kinda wanted… well, I kinda wanted to be the one to propose to you!"

Clark looked into Lois' eyes with a newfound joy and respect. After a moment, he cleared his throat, looked to the South, and said, "Well, this bridge does have another tower…"

And with that, Clark spirited Lois over to the South tower of the Golden Gate Bridge, where she did indeed propose to the most powerful man on Earth.

Of course, he accepted.


	13. Christmas Presents Batch 2

_Here's the next part of Lois and Clark's trek across America, Christmas morning._

_As always, reviews are most welcome. Hope the Holidays are coming together nicely for everyone!_

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With the cellphone against her ear, Lois listened to the ringing on the other end. She and Clark were flying slowly along, about 10,000 feet over California's wine country.

"Merry Christmas," came Jimmy's voice as he picked up the phone next to the couch in the den. He and Jason were deeply engrossed in watching _LILO & STITCH_.

Lois could hear the strains of 'Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride' in the background. She could clearly picture the two of them sprawled on the couch, stuffing their faces with the See's chocolates that were always a part of the Holidays at Lois' house.

"Stop eating my See's chocolates, you two!" she ordered. Clark could clearly hear the muffled "Uhhh..." on the other end, and the scrabbling sound of wrapping paper being replaced. He was flying them northward, at a fairly leisurely pace, so Lois was able to watch the passing Earth below.

"Jimmy, I just wanted to let you know that we're gonna be back soon. About..." she looked at Clark questioningly. He shrugged for a moment, then replied, "'Bout an hour. Maybe ninety minutes."

"About an hour and a half." she relayed. "Let me talk to the Munchkin,"

A moment later, Jason said, "Mom? When are you coming back?"

"About halfway through the next movie, if I know you right and you make Jimmy watch _ATLANTIS_," Lois jibed. Jason loved those two movies. Jason giggled into the phone. "Have to start calling you Milo Thatch," she joshed.

"Then I'll call you Mrs. Packard!" Jason joshed back.

"We're all gonna die," Lois responded, in a passable impression of Mrs. Packard's nicotine-roughened voice. Jason laughed loudly on the other end.

"Now, I want you and Jimmy to eat some brunch, and not stuff yourselves with sweets just yet. There are some things in the fridge, on plates, covered with plastic wrap. There's some stuffing, and some of those pigs-in-a-blanket hot dogs instead of sandwiches. Just have Jimmy put them in the microwave for you. And I want you to eat a banana or an apple. One of those green ones in the tray on the table. Okay?" she finished.

"Okay," Jason responded.

"Love you, Kiddo! Say goodbye to your dad," she crowed, putting the phone up to Clark's ear. He couldn't easily shift Lois to the other side and also grab the phone, so this worked out fine as far as Clark was concerned.

"Hey, Sport," Clark said.

"Hey, Dad! Don't drop Mom!" Jason laughed.

"I'll try not to, but she must weigh a ton!" Clark replied. A second later came a heartfelt "OW!" as Lois whacked him on the top of his head with her sneaker, which she had slipped-off so quickly even Superman was impressed. Giggling like a kid in junior-high, Clark ended the conversation with, "AAhhh! Your mom's attacking me! She's gonna kill us all! She's gone berserk!"

Lois added a couple more WHACKS on her fiancé's head for good measure. "Jason," Clark yelled, his voice melodramatic. "She's gone crazy! She's beating me - OUCH - to death with - OOF - her shoe! Take your presents and grab the piano, and head for the hills!! And don't forget to - OWWW - turn off the lights on the tree. We'll be back soon! Bye!"

"BYE," yelled the laughing seven-year old on the other side of the continent.

Lois snapped the phone shut, then put her lips against Clark's cheek. For a second, he thought she was kissing him, but in the next second, she had opened her mouth, puffed out her cheeks, and blew a loud RASPBERRY against the side of his face, causing both of them to laugh uproariously.

It was a cold, but magnificent Christmas morning. The sun was still only a couple of fingers above the horizon. The puffy cumulous clouds dotting the sky through which they swam were tinged with a golden glow on the lit side, and a soft blue on the shady side, with hints of gray deep within the heavier ones. The sun itself was dazzling, almost liquid in its radiance. The sounds which reached Lois' ears seemed enhanced, almost as though she could make out each sound individually. She could hear the rustling of Clark's cape as the air moved through it. She was able to note the change in pitch and volume of the whistling of air in her own ears as she turned her head from the side to facing forward. During the quieter moments, she caught suggestions of... a dog barking, below and to the left. Farther away, a horn honking on the quiet backroads in the rolling hills that surrounded them. As they passed over a large lake, she could clearly hear the honking of a flock of Canada geese taking-off from the water below them.

Soon they found themselves in Redwood country, Humboldt County, California. Quietly, lazily, they flew through towering stands of redwood trees, the fog catching the sunlight in rays and shafts that reached downward toward the forest floor, and seemed to caress Lois and Clark as they glided through, a hundred feet above the ground, leaving only their passing shadows to mark their presence.

Shortly they were flying over Tuolumne Meadows in the High Sierra, dipping low along the rocky outcrops that scraped the skies above 13,000 feet in the aptly-named Range of Light. Then, crossing the great basin of Owens Valley, they approached the more barren, scrubby Inyo Range. Along the topmost peaks, Clark brought them down next to a small, gnarled tree that was growing twisted and windblown from a crevice in the stark, rocky mountaintop. It was clearly some form of pine tree; its branches had long, dark green needles and a few small pine cones hanging below. As they both gazed in silence at the little tree, the wind picked-up briefly, causing its branches to gently shudder. The air carried a hint of pine sap, dust, and something else, something… pure and clean. Although Superman could get anywhere on Earth in a matter of seconds, he still spent most of his time in the city, as did Lois. These smells that were sweetly tantalizing their senses were indeed a rare delight.

Indicating the little tree, Clark said, "This is a Bristlecone Pine. _Pinus Longaeva_. It is over 2,000 years old. These trees are the oldest living things on this planet. When Krypton exploded, I was a baby. I was put in a ship and sent here. Even though I was traveling much faster than the speed of light, it still took the ship about three relative years to get here, ship's time. In real time, it was many thousands of your years. It's possible that, at that time, this tree was just a sapling. I like to think that this tree, the oldest living thing on Earth, represents the amount of time in my life I waited for you to be there. It may have taken thousands of years for you to be born, for us to come into each other's sphere of existence, but I truly believe that if there had never been born a Lois Lane, then Earth never would have been given… Superman. My life has been thousands of years, all leading up to this day. And, like this tree, here we are."

Together the most powerful couple on Earth stood with the oldest living thing on Earth, and for a few moments, time seemed to stop. For the rest of her life, Lois would think of it as a "perfect moment." For those few minutes, there was nothing else on Earth but Lois, Clark, the ageless rocks of the Inyo Range, and the venerable pine tree which offered silent witness to a love written in the stars thousands of years ago.

After a few more minutes, Clark wrapped Lois in his arms, and vaulted for the sky. Turning to him, she remarked, "You're a big old romantic, you know that? Taking me home via the scenic route on Christmas Day."

"Actually, I think of it as the IMAX Route," he responded with a smile.

"How's that?" she asked.

By now they were over the Grand Canyon. The rims to their north and south were well-blanketed with snow, which was heavy enough to extend down halfway into the level of the Supai Group formations, nearly 2,500 feet below the average level of the plateaus. To Lois, it looked like something out of a western Christmas card. Quickly they flew eastward until they were nearing the great bend in the Colorado River as it angled northward (looking upstream) at the point below Desert View Overlook. Clark began flying them over the confluence of the Colorado and Little Colorado rivers, the latter joining-up from a huge gap in the wall to the east. Here, the side canyon was much narrower, only a few hundred feet wide in places.

"There's an IMAX movie I've always loved ever since I saw it on a field trip with school. It's called _GRAND CANYON: THE HIDDEN SECRETS_. Outside of some of those space shuttle movies, or the Titanic expeditions, it's probably the greatest use of the IMAX format ever filmed. Well, during one of my favorite shots in the movie, they dive down into the canyon at the point we're approaching right now. And when you watch it, it feels just like this…"

And with that, Clark and Lois dove swiftly, gracefully into the deep, shaded gorge of the Little Colorado River. Skimming down until they were only a few feet over the green water, they passed rapidly, dizzyingly over the small shelf rapids of Travertine Falls, cranking hard to the left in a graceful bank as they hugged the bottom of the gorge before pulling quickly back up into the sunshine above the Kaibab Plateau.

It was like this all over America. Clark would quickly zip them from one spot to the next as they worked their way east, and then slow down for a few moments to show Lois some scenic wonder from his unique perspective. At one point they landed on the flat top of Devil's Tower, Wyoming, and laughed at the little sign on the highest part of the plateau which read, 'No Climbing Above This Point.'

Then they found themselves blasting across the Great Plains to do a loop under the St. Louis Arch, Lois scolding Superman for taking a chance on being seen acting in such a frivolous manner.

"Look at the pot calling the kettle 'Black,' Miss Sneaker-Upside-The-Head!" Clark chided. Lois burst out laughing, causing Clark to admonish her with "Quiet honey, the people below will think you're too frivolous!"

"I'll teach you a lesson, Mister. Just wait 'till the honeymoon!" she retorted, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh-oh," Clark gulped, ducking his head in mock-chagrin.

A little while later, they were passing over Niagara Falls. As the mists rose around them from the Horseshoe Falls on the Canada side, Lois' eyes filled with tears of joy, and a little melancholy, too, if she was truly honest with herself.

A little over seven years ago, this was where they had proclaimed their love for each other for the first time, after Lois had successfully fooled Clark into revealing that he was Superman. A great deal had passed between them since then, both together and separately. But, of all the things that bound them together now, the only thing greater than their love for each other, was their child Jason. To both Lois and Clark's way of thinking, Jason was nothing less than a true miracle, not only as the first hybrid human/extraterrestrial (that anyone knew of) on Earth, but as a living result of their love for each other.

This time, neither of them spoke. No words were needed to reinforce the significance of this place in their lives. They simply hovered for a few moments before making their way back to Metropolis, and the food, gifts, and friendship awaiting them at the big, warm house at 312 Riverside Drive.

As they came in over the bay, approaching the house from the open water, they could make out through the gently falling snow something that wasn't there when they had left on their transcontinental trek.

Moored at the dock extending out from the patio, was Richard White's seaplane.


	14. Christmas Presents Batch 3

_Okay, the Big Morning is in full swing. This is not the final chapter, even though the end of it will read that way. I wanted to get as much done in time for Christmas as I could. As some of you know, this story has been over a year in the writing, and I wanted to deliver as much as possible in time for the Holidays. But there will be one or two more final chapters in the next few days._

_As always, I value your reviews and words of encouragement._

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Clark and Lois touched-down on the back patio, off to one side where their landing was obscured by some shrubs. But before Lois could head for the doors, Clark had pulled her back against his chest, and as the snow fell around them, and the lights from the den spilled out of the windows and highlighted the falling flakes against the cozy overcast gloom of this special morning, Clark Kent kissed Lois Lane, deeply, soulfully, and even a little playfully, nibbling on her lips with his the way a horse would bat his lips to pick up a sugar cube. Tickled, Lois laughed into his kiss, doing a bit of deep-mining of her own. Their breath shot forcefully from their nostrils as they both felt a surge of love-lust and passion.

Lois reached down and cupped the bulge in Clark's briefs, and pulled-away from the kiss immediately.

"Whoa, down boy!" she laughed. "You can't go in like that."

Clark looked down at his growing problem, and looked back at Lois with a silly expression on his face, almost as though he was trying to look... suave and debonair. He even arched his eyebrow as he assumed his 'Famous Pose.' The one where he has his fists on his hips, cape billowing majestically behind him, and his regal gaze looking toward The Future, which in such images was usually slightly up and to the left.

"Oh yes I can! I'll just march right in there and say, 'I am Superman, and I... uh, I...' huh." Try as he might, he couldn't come up with a memorable line. He looked Lois, nonplussed. "I got nothin'. You're right, I can't go in there like this." Quickly he took a step back, and with a spin that was nothing more than a one-second blur to Lois' eyes, Clark was standing before her in somewhat more relaxed clothing: khaki pants, and a heavy green and tan cable-knit pullover sweater Martha had given him the year before. No glasses.

Offering Lois his arm, they walked into the patio doors together.

Sure enough, Jason and Jimmy were watching the animated Disney film, ATLANTIS. Jimmy looked to be just as enthralled with the film as Jason. Both were completely sprawled-out on the big sofa, a couple of crumb-filled plates on the low coffee table in front on them. They both looked up at the doors opening, and Jimmy sat up while Jason ran to his parents. "Mommy, Daddy, you're back!" he yelled.

"Yeah, and we don't need super-hearing to hear you!" Lois quipped. Both she and Clark simultaneously raised their faces in the direction of the kitchen, and sniffed, smiling together at the aroma.

"Who's cooking?" Lois asked.

"Daddy Richard's here, Mom! C'mon," he cried, dragging Lois by the hand in the direction of the kitchen. Clark hung back for a few minutes, wanting them to have a chance to catch-up privately. He was comfortable enough with Richard's continued presence in their lives that he no longer felt any need to establish territory with regards to his relationship with Lois. Add to that the fact that Richard had basically been big enough to give Lois the space she needed to admit to herself, and therefore him, that she did indeed still love Superman. He had been man enough to understand that the kind of love Lois felt for Clark, and Clark for her, was something no man could stand in the way of. And, although there had been some pain, and some recriminations very early on, Richard's love for Jason overpowered any anger, resentments, and pettiness he may have had, and he had eventually been happy to embrace his freedom once again, not exactly as a bachelor, but as a man who could give himself to a companion who would give herself fully to him. After all, Richard White was no dummy. _A five-year engagement?_ Really, even _he_ wasn't that blind. In all honesty, he knew that he, like Lois, had found a comfort zone, and like so many other humans before and since, when in a comfort zone, it is far easier to stay where you are, in that zone, rather than risk discomfort in pursuit of something else, something more, something better.

And, it had been ironic that just three months into his newfound freedom, Richard White had met Chloe Sullivan. Although Lois had been... amazing, magnificent, impossible to fathom, and therefore intriguing, Chloe was... something _else_. Richard couldn't qualify it, he didn't completely understand it, but he realized, probably for the first time in his life, what Clark must have felt when he met Lois.

Not surprisingly, Chloe had felt the same thing for Richard.

And so, after a respectable amount of time, Richard and Chloe became 'an item.' And, as she was Lois' cousin, that was an added bonus that kept Richard in Jason's sphere of relationships. Not that Richard had any plans on separating himself from the child he had raised from birth.

Said child was just dragging Lois into the large, open kitchen as Richard was emerging from the pantry. With a look of pleasant surprise on his face, he and Lois connected in a warm, tender hug.

"Hey, you," he said as they slowly parted. "Hey, you too," Lois murmured in return.

Richard looked around and past Lois. "Where's Clark?" he whispered.

"In the den with the boys," Lois whispered back. "Why are we whispering?"

He beckoned her to follow him into the pantry. Once inside, he closed the door. "I don't want him to hear us," he said, barely audibly. "I have a surprise for him, but I'll need your help keeping it under wraps. Also, there's some… well, it might not be good news, and I wanted to tell you first so you could brace yourself."

Lois immediately experienced a slow, creeping dread, and it showed on her face.

"What is it?" she hissed.

And Richard proceeded to tell her. When they finally emerged from the pantry, Lois was not nearly as worried as she had been when Richard started to tell her what he was talking about, but she still had a look of consternation on her face.

Clark saw them coming toward him. Rising from the couch, he enveloped Richard in a friendly hug. "Merry Christmas Daddy Richard!" he chuckled.

"You, too, Daddy Clark," Richard responded. Before the joviality could go any further, though, Richard held Clark out at arm's length. "Uh, I need to tell you about something before you hear it from any… less concerned parties," he said, sotto voce.

Clark gave both Richard and Lois a puzzled look. "Oooo-kay… what is it?"

Indicating the kitchen, Richard led them away from the den and Jimmy and Jason. As soon as they were out of earshot, Richard gave Clark a look of hesitancy that bordered on sympathy.

"Dude, I wanted to let you know, you're all over the news this morning," Richard stated.

Clark looked for a moment as though he didn't understand what the problem was. After all, Superman made the news on a daily basis.

As if reading his thoughts, Richard elaborated.

"A video crew got footage of you assaulting a sheriff's deputy in San Bernardino, California. It's all over the air and the Internet. They're using headlines like 'Superman Goes Rogue,' and 'Man of Steel – Enemy of Law,' things like that! What happened?"

By now, Clark had let out a groan and smacked his hand over his forehead.

Lois looked worried, but kept quiet; knowing Clark there had to be some reasonable explanation.

"I was doing my patrol, and I heard a little kid call my name. Well, Superman's name. It sounded like he was in danger, so naturally I went to check it out," he began.

"Naturally," Lois echoed.

"Well, it turns out some San Bernardino Sheriff's deputies were conducting a bogus pot bust on a woman with cancer for using medical marijuana. They were brutalizing the woman in front of her child, and one of them had his weapon pointed at the kid." Clark looked back toward the den for a second, then back at Lois and Richard, pain evident in his eyes.

"The kid was a little younger than Jason. The cop was getting more and more upset, and finally he lost control and started to scream at the child, who was crying. The guy's gun-hand was shaking so much, I was afraid he'd shoot the kid. And worse, he and his partner were acting like they were enjoying terrorizing this kid and his mom." Clark shrugged his shoulders and looked a tad embarrassed. "Well, I jumped into the fray, and basically had to subdue the deputies before the situation got completely out of control. I didn't hurt anyone, and we got the situation resolved to everyone's satisfaction. Or so I thought."

For a moment all three were silent. Lois chewed on her thumbnail, deep in thought for a moment, and then looked up at Clark.

"I thought medical marijuana was legal in California," she stated.

"It is," replied Richard flatly. "And it's legal in twenty-five other states as well. Unfortunately, our Republican government has decided to usurp the rights of states in these cases, despite the overwhelming passage of Compassionate Use laws in those states, by arresting cancer patients and caregivers for taking advantage of the new laws allowing them to use pot for medical purposes."

"Wonderful," Lois remarked, disgust evident in her voice. "When they want to keep Gay people from getting married, or a state passes a law that says AIDS patients have no equal protection, then our government refuses to help, with the excuse that the states have a right to enact their own laws as they see fit. But when a state law is one the Feds disagree with, all of a sudden the states have no rights to their own sovereignty. Welcome to King George's America," she spat.

Clark seemed to be less agitated than Lois or Richard. "I feel the same way you guys do. But, Superman had certainly had his share of unflattering press. I'm sure this will blow over. What I'm more unhappy about is that video crew letting that footage out after we'd asked them to stop filming. I knew I should've erased that tape."

"How did a video crew get involved? And who is 'We'?"" asked Lois.

Clark waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, it was that stupid TV show, _COPS_. They were on a ride-along with the sheriffs."

"Great," breathed Lois. "I can see the headlines now: 'Superman or Super-Stoner.' And who the hell is 'We'?"

Clark let out a sigh. "I got the Governor to come to the scene and he basically told the sheriff's to back off. And then he told the video crew to stop filming. It looked like they had. I thought about X-raying the tape just to make sure, but somewhere in my ear a little Perry White started yelling at me that I'm a journalist, too, so I couldn't do it," he finished with a tone of chagrin.

Lois looked exasperated "Great. Now what are we gonna we do?"

Clark's eye had a tiny twinkle as he said, "Why don't we just smoke a joint and forget about it?"

Not missing a beat, Richard chimed in with, "Totally, Dude!"

Lois looked between the two before she swatted Clark on the shoulder. "Oh, you stop it!" she laughed.

Richard looked at Clark, all innocence. "No joints? Okay, how 'bout bong hits?"

Clark did his best to keep a straight face, but finally succumbed to the laughter bubbling inside.

"Guys!" Lois hissed as though aghast, pointing toward the den, and Jimmy and especially Jason on the couch "Remember, impressionable young ears with super-hearing," she admonished. She was having a hard time hiding her own smirk.

"No, you're right, Lois," laughed Richard. "Jimmy and I have been doing what we can to keep the Munchkin from seeing the newscasts today. Between the DVD's and a few new Playstation games, I think we've done okay so far."

"Now, you two," Clark began, "I want to say that, although the media spin on the events of last night will no doubt cast my actions in a shameful light, I have to say that I feel no guilt about doing what I did. It's not like I hurt anybody. I just kind-of… embarrassed the sheriffs for a brief time. For God's sake, there was a kid in danger. But, it all worked-out just fine in the end, and given the chance, I'd do it again if need be."

He glanced quickly toward the den, before returning his gaze to Lois and Richard.

"I know Jason's a bit young for such sophisticated and political subjects right now," Clark continued, "but as long as that video is out there, at some point he'll be exposed to it, and he'll be asking questions. And I for one am not going to skulk around in shame just because some people may have reservations about some of the things Superman has done. Or will do. In the future. Maybe."

Lois looked into Clark's eyes for a moment before she seemed to come to a conclusion. She took a deep breath, and began. "Well, I agree with that. But, at some point, you're gonna have to put on the Cape and make a statement to the press. And in this case, much as I hate to say it, I think it should be Richard who does the interview. People know how close you and I, or rather _Superman_ and I, are, and I'm afraid it'll look like favoritism if I do it."

"And since I'm in charge of _The Planet's_ political bureau, I think the smart thing to do would be to spin this as a legal and political concern, as well as a social subject," Richard added.

"Well, yeah, but guys, when I'm in the Cape I can't appear to endorse any one law or code, or any political candidates or factions. Superman must remain neutral, and must never appear to be above the law," Clark replied, leaning back against the kitchen's island countertop. He drummed his fingers on the granite surface as he was speaking.

Richard seemed quite adamant as he responded, "Well, the way I see it, you weren't favoring anything last night. You were simply upholding the law of the land as approved and passed by The People. You were doing exactly what you always say you stand for: Truth, Justice, and the American way. In fact, they even had you saying that on tape to the sheriff in the earlier showings of it, before the various news editors put their own spin on it by editing those portions out to make you look like a bully, in some cases, or a… well, superhero in others," he finished.

"Makes me wish I could get some of those so-called editors alone with Perry White for five minutes," Clark grumbled. "He'd hand each of them their heads."

"Speaking of Perry, he and Mrs. White are going to be over soon, along with my sister and my parents," Lois stated. Grabbing both men's arms, she walked them over into the den, and sat them down in the various chairs before sitting herself down on the couch next to Jason, who was enthralled in one of his new Playstation games. "Considering that Jimmy here is now a member of the Secret Order of the Kent Conspiracy," she began, noting Richard's look of surprise in Jimmy's direction, "we'll need to agree on some cover stories in case Clark has to take off at some time during the day."

Jason put down his game controller and looked at his father with big puppy-dog eyes.

"I thought you were gonna be with us all day," he complained.

"I will if I can, of course, Kiddo. But, if there's a serious emergency, Superman may have no choice but to run out to take care of it. But I promise I won't be long," Clark replied, bringing his forehead against his son's, ruffling the boy's hair. Looking up at the rest of the group, he continued.

"And, as to a cover story, I don't think that'll be a problem. Uh, y'see… Perry knows."

Lois, Richard, and Jimmy all looked stunned for a moment. Finally Lois regained the power of speech: "You told Perry your secret?"

Clark looked rather embarrassed, to say the least. "Uh, well no. Actually, he figured it out and called me into his office a few days ago to discuss it with me."

Lois, Richard, and Jimmy all looked at each other before, simultaneously and as one, crowding three feet closer to Clark as though anticipating the secrets of the Universe. Again, it was Lois who broke the silence.

"Well, what did he say?"

Clark smiled at the memory. "Nothing much other than letting me know my position and my secret were secure. He also told me if I ever needed to fly out quick, that I could use his office window."

That brought a snort of laughter from Jimmy and Richard. Lois just looked annoyed. Clark watched cautiously as she went from incredulous to… _furious? No, that wasn't quite it. Maybe… miffed! Yes, she definitely looks miffed_, Clark thought. And in the next second, she proved him right.

Pointing her finger at him, Mad Dog Lane, with one eye squinted menacingly and kind-of twitching, began by firing a shot across Clark's bow:

"So, you're saying that everyone here, and Perry, gets told or finds out somehow that you're Superman, and I had to find it out _the hard way!?_"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just nine months earlier that Lois had become privy to Clark's secret. Honestly, he had been working on a way to tell her for some time, especially since Richard was no longer intimately involved. But, he just… never seemed to find the right time or circumstances. If he had been truly honest with himself, he would have called himself a complete chicken in the mirror each morning. But, even Earth's only Kryptonian had the very human ability to hide from one's own truths and sabotage one's own best interests. And, as a result, Lois was still in the dark. Until one night after a particularly grueling two days of (for Lois) tough investigative journalism, hair-raising misadventures, and really bad coffee and, (for Clark) tough investigative journalism, hair-raising misadventures, and several massive natural disasters, crime-foilings, and one rescue of Lois Lane from a falling elevator in a high-rise that had been damaged during the New Krypton quake several months prior. Lois had been on the 90th floor of the building, finishing an interview with the company's CEO regarding safety concerns of that very building. As the elevator doors shut before her, she felt a sudden lurch upward, and for a moment found herself floating in the middle of the compartment, terrified. Without thinking she screamed for Superman, and after what seemed like an eternity, she felt the car slow down rapidly, then come to a complete stop on the Third Floor. The doors opened to reveal Superman standing in the hallway, smiling at her despite her disheveled appearance.

"How nice of you to drop in, Miss Lane," he had quipped as he helped her, shaking, from the elevator. She speared him with a venomous look.

"Puns in the face of death do not become you," she growled at him.

As the forty-eight hour mark approached, Lois and Clark were still at their desks. Everyone else, even Perry, had long since gone home. They were the only ones. After saving her work for the umpteenth time, Lois looked over at Clark, about to ask him if he wanted to join her for some more coffee.

Clark Kent was sound asleep, his head pillowed on his arms, which were folded onto the desk. As she gazed fondly at him, she became aware that he was moving his mouth. He was also making facial expressions. All while sound asleep.

His glasses had become skewed, and were up near the top of his forehead.

Lois found herself approaching, somehow mesmerized by the sight of her partner looking so… different, yet… familiar. Getting to within a few feet, she could hear that he was talking, too.

_Imagine that. Clark Kent talks in his sleep,_ she thought.

"Oh, no! It's falling! Gotta get there quick… hurry, she's gonna die! Top of the shaft… there it is! Oh, God, it's already down to the Tenth Floor… hope she can handle the G-forces… slow it down… careful… lock it in place… this elevator should've been replaced years ago…" Clark muttered into his arms. Lois listened, dumbfounded. Her mind was taking her to a place that coincidence couldn't explain. _Could it?_

Before she could process it any further, Clark put a cherry on top for her.

"Now to get these doors open… _'Nice of you…drop in, Miss Lane,'_" he finished.

Lois couldn't believe her ears. Suddenly, unbidden, images, impressions, and memories came flooding back into her mind. Of a night, seven-plus years ago, at Niagara Falls. At The Fortress. And, finally, back at _The Planet_, with Lois herself proclaiming her jealousy of the whole world when it came to the attention of Superman. The weight of those impressions was simply staggering, and for a moment Lois thought she might faint. Bracing herself against her own desk, she rallied her mind and her will, and thought through what she had just heard. Then she looked back over at Clark, whose glasses had ridden even higher into his hair. Leaving his face uncovered… _His face!_

No doubt about it.

_Clark Kent was Superman!_

_That lying, conniving… no, that's not fair._ With her memories, came the truth: she had asked him to remove her feelings and memories, if such was possible. It was, and Clark had. She was still very hurt and angry with him, but no more than she was with herself, and with the situation in general.

Still, she needed to find some way of dealing with this knowledge. She needed to find some balance within her feelings. She needed to get _Clark_ and _Superman_ on the same page, somehow. Without thinking, she grabbed her stapler, and was about to bounce it off his sleeping head, when she suddenly had a better idea.

Reaching into her purse, she brought out her lighter. Reaching into her wastebasket, she brought out a scrap of paper.

Bringing the two together, she started a fire. Oh, it wasn't a very _big_ fire.

Until she tossed into the well-filled wastebasket. She waited until the flames coming from the wastebasket had ignited the sweater she had hanging from the nearby coat rack, causing a fairly substantial pillar of flame before yelling, "SUPERMAN! HELP!! FIRE!!!"

With a groggy start, Clark lurched and jerked his head up, sleep still clouding his senses. Looking in Lois' direction, all Clark registered was a large fire inside the room, where it obviously shouldn't be. Without thinking (as he was still more asleep than awake) Clark, still sitting in his chair, leaned toward the fire and blew, hard. Not only did he extinguish the flames, but he left icicles hanging from the now-charred sweater and coat rack, noxious, acrid smoke drifting from the burned mass toward the ceiling.

That was when Lois' stapler bounced wildly off of Superman's forehead. Before he could react any further, Lois had stepped right up to him and ripped his dress shirt open, revealing the primary-colored Suit underneath. Jabbing her finger into the symbol of the House of El on his chest, she snarled, "Got anything to say for yourself?"

Looking down at his Suit for a second, he looked back at Lois and, with a sickly grin on his face, squeaked, "Costume party?"

That's when she hit him with a phone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whoa, whoa, whoa here, Lois. Perry figured it out for himself, and called me over to discuss it. Not the other way around," Clark defended himself. That seemed to mollify her a bit.

"And, as to Jimmy," he indicated the young man sitting on the couch, but before he could go any further, Jimmy jumped in.

"Uh, I kind-of already figured it out, Lois, and Clark confirmed it this morning."

Lois looked from one to the other, suspicion clouding her features. Finally she shook her head, and turned back toward the kitchen. "And they tell me I'm an investigative journalist. Huh," she muttered as she walked away. "Jason, you about ready to open some presents?"

"YEAH!" the boy screamed at a very high pitch, much to Clark's dismay.

"Well, okay, start handing them out. Who wants some hot cocoa?" she asked the room.

Five male hands went up faster than greased lightning. Two of them belonged to Jason.

Clark called over to Lois, "Actually, you don't have to heat them up. Just bring them here."

"You read my mind, Mr. Heat-Vision," she retorted.

Bringing the cups of milk and cocoa powder, along with a jar of Malt-Flavored Ovaltine and a bag of Mini-Marshmallows over to the coffee table, Lois seated herself on the couch next to Clark on one side, and Jason on the other. Each of them grabbed a mug and began adding powder, malt, and marshmallows to their own liking before stirring. Then, once they were sitting back on the table, Clark simply looked at each mug for about two seconds, and suddenly there was steam rising from the drinks, the intoxicating aroma of hot chocolate blending with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree and wood smoke from the fireplace. As they each grabbed their respective mugs, there was a quiet chorus of "Thank-you's" aimed at Clark as they brought the steaming chocolate to their lips. For his part, the Man of Steel simply smiled shyly before taking a big sip of his own drink.

"Well, Kiddo, get that bag open, and grab some of the gifts from under the tree. We'll each open one before the next person gets to, and so on around the table," Lois instructed.

"Jason, you can start."

Carefully removing the gifts from the bag Clark had brought inside the piano, Jason looked at them, finding one with his name on the tag. It was flat, of medium size, and kind of… puffy-looking. The tag said it was from Superman. "Can I start with this one?" the boy eagerly asked.

Clark nodded to him. "Of course."

Tearing open the wrapping, Jason's eyes were greeted by a bright splash of red cloth. Pulling the cloth completely out, he saw that it was… he looked up at Clark in awe.

Standing up, Jason held the flowing red cloth up against his torso. Even so, it still puddled-up around the floor and his feet. Winking at the adults was a splash of yellow in the upper-middle of the cloth, which at first looked like a blanket.

With a catch of her breath, Lois realized her son was holding Superman's old, original red Cape. The one he first appeared with, which had the crest of the House of El sewn on the back.

"Jason, whether or not you get any more powers, I want you to remember that I'll always love you. So, I want you to have the one thing that symbolizes Superman the most. My old Cape. It's the first one I ever had. This was one of the blankets my father on Krypton, Jor-El, wrapped me up in when he sent me here to Earth. Who knows? Someday, you just might want to use it!" Clark informed his son.

"Wow," Jason breathed. "Really? For my very own?"

"For your very own," Clark smiled.

"Thank you, Daddy," Jason jumped into his father's arms for a hug.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was passed giving and receiving gifts (most of which were for Jason), eating, drinking, and enjoying each other's company. Among the gifts Clark gave to Jason were:

A chemistry set;

A prefabricated H.O. scale model railroad set;

An assortment of liquid acrylic paints in squeeze-bottles along with some high-quality brushes, watercolor paper, canvas boards, and plastic palettes; and several illustrated technique books for beginning artists;

And, of course, the aforementioned Cape and Baby Grand piano.

From Jimmy, Jason received a small digital camera and memory chip.

And from Lois (and Santa), Jason got several new DVD movies (mostly Disney films such as THE JUNGLE BOOK, PINNOCHIO, and THE LION KING); a new Playstation and assorted games; several music instruction books and DVD's; of course the requisite socks, T-shirts, and underwear; a small photo-quality printer that docked with the camera Jimmy had given him; a new Superman plush toy; and various stocking-stuffers, mostly of the Hot Wheels variety.

From Daddy Richard to Jason came a model airplane kit of the same seaplane Richard owned; a framed picture of Richard and Jason rough-housing shot by Jimmy one day last summer, framed and inscribed 'Jason, I love you more than anything, Daddy Richard'; a new Microsoft Flight Simulator program and joystick.

From Richard to Lois and Clark there was a pair of tickets to see a new Sherlock Holmes play, on Broadway, written by the famous mystery writer Stuart M. Kaminsky.

Clark looked at Richard with undisguised delight. "I love Kaminsky! His _Toby Peters Mysteries_ are a scream. How'd you know?"

Lois and Richard shared a smile. "One of Santa's elves told me," he smiled.

From Richard to Clark there was an ancient pilot's chart of the airspace immediately around Metropolis, dated 1925. It was somewhat yellowed and stiff, but Clark was moved beyond words. He looked at Richard, his eyes bright. Both men smiled at each other.

Lois handed Clark a small package. Opening the (lead-lined) wrapping paper, Clark let out a hearty laugh. Inside was a two-DVD set of the Best T.V. commercials since 1950. "You remembered?"

"It's hard to forget when a man's hobby is taping T.V. commercials that he finds amusing, especially when he's tried to make you sit through them.," Lois snorted.

"Oh, no, these are great," Clark exclaimed, scanning the liner notes on the back. "They've got the BP spot with the pizza delivery kid on the elevator… the spots for California cheese with the cows… the Chevron spots with the talking cars… oh, my God! They've got those web commercials for American Express with Jerry Seinfeld and a cartoon of me, hanging out! These are great! You wanna see them?"

"I'm not that polite," deadpanned Lois.

"It's ironic that you've given me that lovely chart," said Clark to Richard, "because I have for you…" he pulled a small package from the pile and handed it to Richard, who immediately tore it open, revealing a brand-new, state-of-the-are aircraft GPS unit.

"It's a new GPS unit," Clark supplied needlessly.

"It's beautiful! Thank you, Clark!" Richard exclaimed.

"Well, that's just a part of it. I know how much you love to fly. Who wouldn't, right?" he winked at Richard, who smiled in return. "But, as cool as she is, your seaplane can only go so far and only land on water. So, this GPS unit actually belongs to…" and here Clark produced a photograph of a brand-new Cessna Citation twin-engine corporate jet aircraft, "this plane, which is in your name, and is currently living at Metropolis International Airport. Here's the hangar number," Clark pointed to the back of the photo. "Look in the bottom of the GPS box, you'll find the keys and the registration papers."

Richard looked like he was about to have a stroke. So did Lois, for that matter. Before they could say anything further, Clark turned to Lois.

"Now, I know, as well as everyone in the office, what an atrocious speller you are…"

"Hey, now just a…" Lois began, but Clark's hand shot up, his index finger pointed skyward in the universal 'Hold On A Second' gesture. Lois froze, eyes wide, allowing Clark to continue.

"I have to proofread that stuff, believe me, it's atrocious, Lois," Clark warned.

Lois looked at him with an expression of disgust. Clark raised his eyebrows at her.

"Okay, Lois… spell 'atrocious,'" He challenged.

Appearing nonplussed for a second, she turned her gaze toward the ceiling, and began ticking-off the letters on her fingers: "A-T-R-O-… uhhh… S-H-U-S-S…?"

"Need I say more," Clark huffed. "Anyway, considering not just your spelling, but the fact that you have a lot of transcribing and typing to do, I thought you could use this…" With that, Clark handed Lois a medium-sized, flat package. Tearing open the wrapping, Lois discovered a brand-new laptop computer with touch-screen display. As she examined it, Clark told her, "It has the latest voice-recognition software, word-processing, and page layout programs, and ultra high-speed architecture. It also has built-in microphones and full-resolution video cam."

Looking along the bottom and rear end, Lois noticed an odd docking port, of a type she had never seen before. "What's this port for?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," Clark drawled. "That's where you attach the car."

Lois looked at him like she didn't understand plain English. "What car?"

"Oh, the car that comes with that computer. It's parked out front. Didn't I mention that?" Clark replied, acting as innocent as possible.

Lois' eyes got VERY wide for about two seconds before she bolted for the front door. Before the others could even get to their feet, they heard a muffled scream come from the front porch.

When the others reached her, they found Lois standing in the snow next to a brand-new, candy-apple red PT Cruiser, with wood panels down the sides like an old Woody. She had her hand to her mouth and was trying to contain her tears. She was not succeeding. As Richard approached the gleaming new Plymouth, he could see inside, sure enough, a dashboard docking port and support bracket for the laptop Clark had just given her.

"I know how much time and money you waste on taxis, and your Audi has seen better days. I figured it's about time you started using the parking place Perry set aside for you in style," Clark informed them. "And, with that computer, you can simply speak your stories into it while you're driving, and it'll format them properly and everything. It's even hooked-up to the Web via radio."

Before he could think further, Clark was enveloped by both Lois and Richard in a big, silly, warm hug. Lois was crying like a baby.

Richard looked at Clark and said, "You didn't have to do all this. You really are a super man, you know that?"

Feeling embarrassed, Clark ducked his head and muttered, "Well, that's what my press agent here keeps saying. Personally, I think it's really just the Belgian chocolates I get her whenever I fly over there."

Lois and Richard both laughed heartily. During the next few minutes, while the snow fell gently around them, they examined the car. As they were looking the vehicle over, playing with the controls, and letting Jason sit at the steering wheel, a cat that happened to live next door came through the hedge on one side of the driveway, and walked past the adults. Clark, who had been caught-up in the merriment, noticed the cat and froze for a moment, a look of horror on his face.

"Oh, no!" he breathed.

"What is it?" Lois asked, assuming an emergency was brewing somewhere. Looking at the group, Clark got an apologetic expression on his features. "I need to take off for about five minutes. It's nothing like a rescue, I just… forgot something. Do you mind? I'll only be a few minutes," he pleaded.

"Of course not, go ahead. Is it anything we can help with?" Lois asked, concern in her voice.

"Uhhh…, well, actually, you'll know when I get back," Clark replied unhelpfully. "Have fun with the car. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." He dashed back into the house, trailing some snow and a little mud from the driveway onto the entry-area tiles. A second later they could just make out Superman rising up over the backyard and flashing out across Hobb's Bay before he disappeared in the falling snow.

Thirty seconds later, Clark landed on his kitchen windowsill overlooking the alley, and entered his apartment. The spot on the floor where he had laid the dead momma cat was empty; he had taken her downstairs and vaporized her with his heat-vision before heading over to Jimmy's place, after giving the kitten the chance to process his mother's death, and understand it in whatever way felines could, by allowing the kitten to approach and examine her body.

Unfortunately, Clark had completely forgotten about the little kitten during the events of the morning. Stopping in his kitchen, he listened carefully. Nothing. He took a sniff, and could catch the faint, unmistakable aroma of cat poop and freshly-pawed litter. So far, so good. Quietly, Clark hovered a foot off of the floor, and floated into the living room. He stopped as the room came fully into view, shock causing him to gasp.

The room was a shambles. Well, maybe shambles was too strong a word.

Well, maybe not.

The drapes had some shreds in them. The couch arms had some aging on them that hadn't been there before. Various tchotchkes had been knocked from their shelves. Some of Clark's books were on the floor.

But, the Christmas Tree was the main attraction: it was lying on it's side on the floor, various ornaments scattered about, some broken. The lights were still on and blinking. The model of the _Enterprise_ looked as though it had been hit with quantum torpedoes. One entire warp nacelle was lying about three feet away, and the Saucer Section (or Primary Hull) was slightly detached from the ship's graceful neck.

A whole feather boa's-worth of red garland was trailing from the tree and around one side of the couch, out of Clark's field of view. As he moved closer, he could see the end of the tinsel trail, shaped like a large puffball around the tiny kitten, whose head was the only part of her sticking out.

She was sound asleep.

"Hey, Kitty!" Clark called out to her. She quickly opened her sleepy eyes, and looked up at the humanoid towering over her, hands on his hips, consternation etched on his features. "Look at this mess! What did you do!? Have you got anything to say for yourself?" he stormed.

Shaking her head quickly, her ears puffed out, she yawned, licked her muzzle, and replied in a voice only a hellishly adorable kitten could pull-off, "Maaaaa?"

After a moment of shaking his head, Clark picked up his new roommate, gave her a nuzzle, and said, "Looks like I won't be able to leave you alone for even a second, huh? Well, you know what?" Clark asked as he grabbed the small animal carrier he had swiped from Ma's barn earlier that morning and put the kitten inside before covering the whole thing with a blanket. "I think it's time you have your first Christmas with the rest of the family! How 'bout that?" Clark asked.

"Gaaaa!" the tiny kitten replied, nosing around the door of the cage so she could see out past the blanket.

In the next second, Superman and his new kitten were flying out of the kitchen window, headed back to Lois' house. Headed back to the woman and child he loved, and the friends he admired and trusted.

Headed home.


	15. Christmas Presents Batch 4

_It's getting later in the afternoon on Christmas Day, but the fun isn't over yet!_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For Clark, who had undergone so much solitude in his life, so much despair, so much heartache and misery, at least in terms of the many humans he assisted and disasters or crimes to which he responded, as well as his own numerous years of solitude and reflection both in the Fortress during his initial training, and later, on his ill-fated journey to the remains of Krypton... for Clark, this Christmas was a balm and a joy that he had honestly never dreamed he would be fortunate enough to experience.

After he arrived back at the house on Riverside Drive, the day started to move rapidly, even during the relaxed moments when he was simply playing games with his son, or against Richard and Jimmy. Clark almost began to worry that it was too good to last. That it was almost... too sweet a time.

As soon as Clark walked into the house from the back porch, still dressed in The Suit, Jason was by his side, peering up at the carrier Clark had in his hand. However, the son of Superman needed no X-ray vision to figure out the contents. There was a distinct meowing... or, more accurately, a loud GAAA-ing coming from under the blanket covering the metal and plastic carrier.

"WOW! A kitten! Where'd ya get a kitten, Daddy?" Jason bounced up and down, hoping for a better view.

Clark put down the carrier and knelt in front of his son. "Well, I think this was God calling me for help. This little girl's mama had been hit by a car, and so she had no home. Last night, she was crying under my window, so I guess I have no choice but to give her a home."

"You really gonna keep her?" Lois asked, coming over and lifting the blanket. The fluffy little blue-point Himalayan kitten looked out of the cage, curiosity brightening her already deep-blue eyes. Clark remembered, fondly, Lois' old cat, Elroy. Of course, he had been raised around many animals, including the various barn cats around the Kent farm. But, many of those cats were strictly outdoor, working animals, and just as often as not would run away from Clark when he tried to approach unless he was bearing a bowl of food or water.

"Well, y'know, it was getting kinda lonely around my apartment, and it was Christmas Eve, and who could turn away a face like that?" Clark cooed as he put his finger in the door of the cage. The kitten took immediate advantage of the opportunity to rub and nuzzle against her new keeper's fingertip. Clark gave her a gentle rub behind one ear, and she began to purr with a surprisingly loud rumble for such a little animal.

Lois' eyebrows shot up in shock. "Wow. That kitten sounds like an old Buick," she quipped. Before she could make any further cracks, though, the house phone rang. Walking into the kitchen, Lois answered it while Clark let Jason pet the kitten through the cage door.

"Can we let her out to play?" Jason asked eagerly.

"Actually, son, I don't think that's a good idea. Not only do we want her to calm down and go to sleep, but just a little while ago she was playing in my apartment, and she destroyed the place. She knocked down the entire Christmas tree, she ruined my drapes, and my couch, scattered a bunch of books around the room..."

By now, Jason was giggling uncontrollably. Clark looked at his son in mock-dismay.

"What, you think that sounds funny, Kiddo?" he asked.

Just then Lois returned, having heard part of the exchange between the man she loved and their son. "Actually, sounds like a match made in Heaven to me," she commented. As Jason and Clark continued to finger-pet the kitten through the cage door, Lois announced, "Okay, Perry and company will be here soon, and before it gets too crowded, I want us all to take our first spin in my new car!"

"Gee, Lois, it's a little slippery out there..." Clark began, sounding much more like the "Clark" she and the other staffers saw in the bullpen of the paper, than his usual self. He rose to look at her as he spoke.

"I know, that's why I want to go now before it gets any worse. I just gotta give her a spin, Clark. Besides, she has a sunroof. You can stick your head out of the top and melt the ice on the road ahead of us with your heat-vision!" she explained. "C'mon, Clark! It'll be the only chance we get until they plow the roads out, which might not be until tomorrow. Think of it as serving the community."

Clark rolled his eyes at that one. "Lois, the snow will just cover it back over as soon as we drive past," he pointed out. But, she was already dragging him by the hand, and beckoning the others to follow. Without waiting any further, everyone trooped out to the car, and got in. Lois just sat at the wheel for a moment, taking in the car's interior. Finally, she started the engine, opened the sunroof, and backed out of the driveway. Clark was riding shotgun, Richard, Jimmy, and Jason were all crowded into the back seats. It was one of the few times Lois had chosen not to put Jason in a child safety seat, but as they were only going around the immediate neighborhood at nothing more than about 25-30 miles per hour, Lois felt it was safe enough to allow Richard to hold Jason firmly in his lap. Besides, they had Superman riding with them. They were pretty-much as safe as was possible outside of being in bed, assuming of course that the bed was not moving at 25-30 miles per hour on a snowy, icy street with it's sunroof open.

Clark took the opportunity to stand up in the sunroof (no easy task considering his large frame) and began to use his heat-vision to melt the occasional icy patches as they approached. Lois played with the stereo and its controls; tried the windshield washer; experimented with the transmission settings; and carefully tested the car's braking and acceleration on the slick streets of their neighborhood. To anyone watching from the sidewalk or a front window, the sight of a PT Cruiser driving up and down the quiet streets with a very tall man standing up in the sunroof while rippling red heat waves emanated from his eyes onto the icy road ahead would have proven quite... revealing, to say the least.

After about fifteen minutes of this, during which all of the adults got a turn at driving the car, Lois finally guided them back into the driveway. Looking at the two extra vehicles that were parked in front, one of which was taking-up the right side of the double-car driveway, Clark recognized Perry White's car. He knew that the car on the street belonged to Chloe Sullivan. Apparently they had arrived at the house while Lois and Company were doing their the test-drive around the neighborhood, and let themselves in. As Clark stepped out of the Cruiser, he moved around to the front walkway, and looked at the flagstone path. There were several sets of footprints, already becoming covered-over with a light dusting of snow, culminating in some scattered snow and mud on the front porch and welcome mat. Five seconds later, there was only rising steam on the walkway to mark where the snow and ice had been. Clark gestured everyone into the house. Jason ran ahead and opened the front door, dashing inside and screaming "Uncle Perry! Uncle Perry!" His voice faded as he disappeared deeper inside.

As soon as they entered, Clark (and everyone else) was captivated by the mouth-watering aroma of fresh, homemade pumpkin pie. Normally, this would have stopped anybody worth their Christmas spirit. It was even stronger than the smell of the turkey and the other dinner items slowly cooking in the kitchen. But Clark, with his heightened senses, detected something strongly... familiar about this particular pumpkin pie. This was no store-bought pie.

It smelled exactly like the pies his mother used to bake. In fact, the last time he'd had one had been... last Christmas (his first one back home on Earth since his return from space), and he had been silently lamenting not having brought one or two for Lois and their friends this year.

Looking around, he searched for the source of the tantalizing aroma. Before he could look any further, however, Chloe was standing before him, a warm smile on her face. Smiling in return, Clark opened his arms, and she joined him in a warm, welcoming hug.

"Merry Christmas, Clark," she murmured.

"You too, Chloe," he replied.

"Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear I can smell your mom's pumpkin pie," she stated as they broke their hug. She made a show of sniffing the air. "Or am I just imagining things?"

Perry and his wife were just getting up from the couch in the den, Perry speaking as he rose. "Yeah, it does smell pretty nice in here. Lois? Have you learned to cook all of a sudden?"

"Sacrilege, sacrilege," she intoned as she moved to give Chloe a hug. "Hey, Cuz, Merry Christmas,"

"Right back at'cha, Cuz," Chloe replied, hugging her cousin tightly. "Have I got some news for you," she offered, waggling her eyebrows mysteriously.

"You're not the only one with news," Lois countered. Chloe gave her and Clark an appraising look, before turning and moving into the den. At that point, Perry and his wife Alice joined the group, having already given their nephew Richard and Grand-nephew a big hug each.

"Clark, Lois, Merry Christmas," he growled, his gruff voice belying his truly great affection for the two star reporters who had slowly become as much a part of his family as Richard. Alice gave Lois a warm hug, adding, "Thank you so much for inviting us over today."

"Hey, you're family as far as we're concerned. I can't imagine the Holidays without you two," Lois said breezily.

"Well, before we go any further, I think we need to give someone their special present," Chloe announced. "Mr. Kent, front and center."

"Huh?" Clark replied articulately. He glanced from Chloe to Lois to Perry and everyone else, and realized they were all looking at him. With a grand gesture, Chloe and Perry, almost simultaneously, beckoned toward a very large, tall box, wrapped in Christmas wrapping and sitting near the tree. Moving closer, Clark could see a huge nametag on it. It said, "To Clark. We love you." It was covered with the signatures of everyone present, including a crayon scrawl that could only belong to Jason. Turning to look at everyone, Clark started to gush a bit. "Golly, you guys didn't need to get me anything…" he began. Richard and Chloe quickly cut him off.

"Oh, no, Clark Kent, you aren't getting off THAT easily…" she began.

"You think you're the only one who gets to have fun?" Richard added, almost on top of Chloe's remark.

"Wow! Guys, I'm really… this is swell!" he stammered.

Richard looked slightly amused, Jimmy was smirking, and Lois simply rolled her eyes.

_You might be able to take the boy out of the farm, but you'll never get the farm out of the boy_, Lois thought to herself.

Turning back to the gift, he peered pointedly at it for a moment. Perry caught that and immediately scolded Clark. "Hey, hey, hey now! No X-ray vision, Kent!"

It took a second for Clark to realize that Perry White had just blurted his secret in front of Perry's wife! Looking at his boss for a moment, he wasn't sure how to react. Finally, Alice came forward and put her hand on Clark's massive shoulder.

"Don't you worry, young man. Mr. White didn't marry a dummy. I figured it out before even he did!" she said with a smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

"With all of us. Don't worry Clark," Jimmy added. "We've got your back."

"A year ago, if you had told me that all of you would know about… my secret," Clark began, looking each of them in the eye, one at a time, "I would have said you were crazy. And then I would have run off and hidden in the Arctic for the rest of whatever. But now… I can only wonder what cosmic graces have put me in the company of such wonderful, trustworthy people. What have I done to deserve such a gift?"

For a moment there was a self-conscious silence, a pause so pregnant it was ready to drop quadruplets. Everyone looked around at everyone else, unsure how to react to such praise coming from Earth's only extraterrestrial, not to mention the world's most beloved hero. Finally, Lois piped-up, in a slightly sarcastic tone, "Well, you've saved us all from earthquakes, dam collapses, falling globes, Kryptonite continents, Lex Luthor, crashing jumbo jets, exploding gas mains, erupting volcanoes, murderous muggers…"

"And," Perry finished, "You're still, in my 48 years in this business, the fastest typist I have ever seen!"

That was all it took for Clark to lose it, and he began to laugh. Deeply, loudly, and infectiously. Shortly, everyone else in the room was laughing with him.

As their hilarity died-down, Clark once again caught the sweet, nostalgic aroma of his mother's pumpkin pie. "There's that pie smell again," he muttered. Following the scent, he realized it was coming from the giant present that was dominating the area near the tree. It was at least four feet tall, and a good three feet on each side. Clark discovered he could not see through it. The wrapping had been backed with lead foil. Clark looked at everyone. "You people were really serious, weren't you?" he joked.

"Don't just stand there, open it up!" Chloe ordered.

"What did you guys do? Put one of Ma's pies in this giant box to fool me?" he asked, as he began to tear the wrapping from the top of the box. Suddenly, the box began to tremble and shake, and before he could investigate further, the top of the box burst open, and from within popped…

Martha Kent.

Holding a freshly-baked pumpkin pie!

"Merry Christmas, Clark!" Martha exclaimed, sheer joy radiating from her very core.

"Wh...wha… Ma! How did you get here? I just saw you at home barely even twelve hours ago!" Before she could explain, he lifted her out of the box, pie and all, and whirled her around in a loving, childish hug, finally setting her on her feet and planting a kiss on her cheek.

Chloe spoke up. "We had this worked out weeks ago. But then, the storm came up last night, and it looked like we wouldn't be able to do it. But, your mother insisted, and so Richard called-in a favor from a commercial pilot friend of his, and they chartered a private jet for her early this morning in Topeka. To paraphrase everyone's favorite Christmas movie, 'I got her here from the airport as quickly as I could. The fool flew all the way up here in a blizzard.'"

Martha looked with glowing eyes at her beloved son. She, more than anyone else, knew of his struggles to live with his secret and its inherent loneliness. From the time he was a child right up until this very moment, she had despaired of her son ever being able to find peace and happiness. Now, surrounded by these honorable people, who were easily giving as much warmth and love to Clark as he had given to the rest of the world, she felt as though she could, finally, put aside those lifelong worries. Placing her hands up on her son's shoulders, she looked deeply into his eyes, and said, "To continue the line of thought Chloe started, remember… no man is a failure who has friends."

Doing his best to hide the quiver that was threatening his lower lip, Superman, Clark Kent, The Last Son of Krypton, looked at each of his trusted, loving colleagues… his family, and finally cleared his throat before replying, "Thanks everyone. Thanks for the wings. I love you all."

Richard finally broke the awed silence, raising a glass of wine that had somehow materialized in his hand. "To Clark Kent. The richest man in town," he toasted.

Suddenly, Clark remembered the gift that Lex Luthor had bestowed upon him the day before. The gift that had enabled him to procure the lavish gifts he had given Richard and Lois, and the other gifts that were yet to come.

"Actually," he began at length, "about that. I think you all might want to sit down…"


	16. Epilogue

_Well, after a year and 3 months, here, finally, is the last chapter of my first work of fiction. I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I have, and I hope to write some more in the near future. But, as the Holiday Season must always end, so must this story. I want to thank all of you for your supportive reviews and kind words. I hope you'll review this one, too, as it's the closing of the story._

_Live Long and Prosper,_

_Pony._

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"You took a payoff from whom?" Lois stormed, incredulously. Clark was sitting in the wing-back chair that was catty-corner from the couch, everyone else gathered nearby, on the couch, in the other available chairs, with Jason and Jimmy taking-up space on the floor, cross-legged.

Suddenly, everyone began jabbering all at once, firing-off questions or recriminations at Clark so fast he almost needed to go into super-speed mode just to sort through them.

He waited for the chatter to die down as they all realized he was simply staring at them until they were willing to shut up.

Finally, he held his hands up in a placating gesture, and filled everyone in.

"Okay, first off, you're going to find this hard to believe, but a number of years ago, before I left for Krypton, I was visited by a time-traveller from the future. Now, you know that Lex and I have known each other since we we teenagers. Well, although I was not to be told any future knowledge, I was led to believe that someday Lex and I would become friends again. I truly believe yesterday was that day."

He went on to explain about Luthor's cancer, his apparently honest change of heart and, well, epiphany if you will. He also detailed that he had a friend at the FBI, not to mention Bruce Wayne and Lucious Fox, run to ground everything they could on Lex, every paper trail, every invention, every acquisition, every transaction, and every conviction, parole, release or escape, as far back as they could.

What they found, after several hours and many favors called-in (it _was_ Christmas Eve, after all) was that Lex had, apparently, been telling the truth about his condition. Of course, Superman had X-rayed Lex's brain and lungs, and the evidence was irrefutable. Part of his current freedom had been his willingness to assist the federal prosecutors in naming the names, locations, and actions of many of the criminal underworld who were still operating unchallenged. Part of it was due to his failing health. Lex was not worried about recriminations against him. None of his former colleagues had either the resources or the guts to cross Lex Luthor. Besides, Lex fully expected he'd be dead inside of another year, anyway. So, he had come to the conclusion, fueled by not only a rediscovered conscience, but also a healthy fear of consigning his soul to the Afterlife without at least some token form of amends, that he would try to do as much decent, good work as he could in his remaining time. Clark was the recipient of a legitimate, No-Strings-Attached, financial gift from Lex Luthor. Of course, it was entirely possible, Clark had amended to the group, that Lex was simply covering his own ass when it came to any possible lawsuits brought about by any of Superman's associates, not to mention Superman himself, were Clark ever to be so petty as to do such a thing.

They had argued the merits of this situation well into the evening, with Lois being the most vociferous contributor, primarily against Lex. However, both Chloe and Martha were far more familiar with Lex, and early on decided to grudgingly extend him the benefit of the doubt. Lois snarked to her cousin that "You've been addled by all those years growing up in the Corn Capital of The World!"

Chloe speared Lois with a venomous glare and retorted with, "If you think Clark should just take a chance on rejecting Lex's apology, not to mention twenty million dollars, then you've got splinters in the windmills of your mind!"

And so, with his mother's and Chloe's reluctant acceptance, he had utilized the monies Lex Luthor had given him, for far more purposes than Lex would have given Clark credit for.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the group was winding-down, and dinner was almost ready to be spread out on the dining room table. It was just as Clark and Jimmy were starting to lay down the place settings that Lois' sister Lucy, her family, and their parents Ella and General Sam Lane arrived. As she and Richard were placing various courses of food in various bowls, serving dishes, and trays in the kitchen, Lois looked at the large assembly of loved-ones in her home, and realized that, with the exception of her sister, parents, and cousin, the people who most mattered to her in the world were the same people she worked with on a daily basis in the city's greatest newspaper. For just a second it almost seemed... pathetic, like a typical sitcom cliche'. The characters in sitcoms always seemed to both work _and_ play together, with never any separation of the individuals for their own private lives. But, a second later, Lois realized she wouldn't want it any other way. Clark, Jimmy, Richard, and of course Perry, were as much family to her as Lucy and Jason. Maybe even more so. They had spent most of their adult lives together, building their careers together while making a positive impact on the world. It was that thought that motivated her to put down the serving spoon with which she was ladling ranch-flavored mashed potatoes into a large oval bowl, and approach Clark, who was just putting down the last dish on the table.

"Clark, I think we should tell everyone just before we say Grace," she whispered.

Clark looked at her, confused. "You actually say Grace?" he queried.

Lois whacked him on the shoulder, and he chuckled, "Okay, sounds like a plan."

They had all taken their seats. Clark had offered the head seat at the table to Perry, who tried to demure, but both Lois and Clark had insisted. Richard sealed the deal by piping-up with, "C'mon, Uncle Perry; you're ranking Old-Timer around here, you should sit at the head of the table."

"Just for that, you owe me eight inches of copy on the confetti clean-up efforts in Times Square next week, with a sidebar piece on the contracting company the Sanitation Department hires to handle the job," the Great Gray Mastodon barked. Everyone laughed. He glared around the table at his staff. "You think I'm kidding? Lane, wipe that smirk off your face or I'll assign you to a week-long series on 'How To Make The Best of a Bad Resolution - New Year, New You!'" he finished, taking his assigned seat. Before anyone could say anything further, however, Richard stood up, clinking his Champaign glass with his butter knife. Everyone looked at him, while Lois and Clark exchanged a glance. Clark had been preparing to do the same thing Richard was suddenly doing; as such Clark gave Lois a slight shrug before returning his attention to Richard, who was just pulling Chloe up to stand next to him.

"Everybody," he began. "Before we dig in, Chloe and I just want to make an announcement." A small gasp could be heard from Lois before she caught herself. Chloe looked at her cousin, unable to keep from smiling, and ducking her head a little shyly. Lois covered her mouth, both to keep herself quiet, and as a way of quelling her rising anticipation of what was about to come next...

"Chloe and I are engaged," Richard smiled without further ado. Lois let out a scream, and jumped up to run to the other side of the table and enveloped her cousin in an ecstatic hug. Richard smiled at his uncle, a smile which was happily echoed on the older man's face. Everyone else began to congratulate the two. Lois looked at Richard sharply for a second.

"Have you actually set a date?" she asked.

"Yes we have," Richard replied. Chloe leaned in and added, "We're getting married the first weekend in May."

Perry stood up and gave his nephew a fierce, gruff hug. "Good for you, Kiddo. Good for both of you!" he intoned.

Suddenly Lois held Chloe out at arm's length. "Thanks a lot, Cuz."

Just as suddenly, everyone got real quiet. With anger blazing in her eyes, Lois elaborated, "You just scooped me!"

"What?" Chloe asked, stunned by her cousin's sudden apparent mood swing.

"Yeah! You just stole my thunder!" Lois snapped.

"What thunder? What do you...?" Chloe's eyes suddenly widened in comprehension.

Clark chose that moment to stand up, and as Richard had just done, he clinked his Champaign glass with his knife, loudly clearing his throat with a deadpan expression on his face.

Lois, taking her cue from her fiance', broke into a huge grin and simply thrust her left hand out, over the table for all to see. The simple diamond ring, the same one Martha Kent had accepted from Jonathon upon his proposal so many years ago, glinted on Lois' finger. "This morning, Superman over here proposed to me!"

Before she could catch herself, Martha let out an ecstatic squeak, while everyone else at the table, as one, inhaled sharply, stunned at the double revelation.

Clark looked at Richard, sharing a smile.

"Guess great minds think alike, huh?" Clark quipped.

For just a moment, there was total silence. The ticking of the mantel clock was the only sound in the room. Until Jason let out a shriek.

"YAY!!! My daddy's gonna marry my mommy!!!"

With that, everyone else at the table spontaneously burst into applause and well-wishes for both couples. Jason, however, had begun to dance around in total abandon, jumping up and down so heavily that the table and its candles on the centerpiece were trembling. Before Lois or Clark could admonish him, however, he moved into a clear area of the floor a few feet away, spread out his little arms, and began to twirl around in place, faster and faster, to the point of almost becoming a blur. So giddy with happiness was Jason that he failed to notice, unlike the rest of the room, that as he spun in place, he had begun to lift off of the floor. Spinning faster and faster, he continued to rise until his feet were about 12 inches off of the carpet, in a blurry, whirling hover.

All of the adults jaws were hanging open. Lois and Clark, and Richard, after they had begun to gather their wits, shared a significant look with each other. Perry sat down heavily in his chair, hornswoggled, and true to form, Jimmy was the first one to come to his senses, grabbing the camera he'd given to Jason and firing-off a few images. The strobe froze the boy's image in the air, caught in mid-spin like a fly in amber while still whirling around his own center. Finally slowing to a stop, Jason drifted back down to the floor. As he looked at everyone staring at him, his face registered concern. Obviously, he had no idea that he'd become airborne.

"What?" he asked the adults.

After a stunned pause, the silence was broken by a low chuckling coming from Perry White. Pointing at his grand-nephew, he said, "Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?" Before everyone could crowd around Jason, or even question him as to how he was able to fly, Clark cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him.

"I'd like to suggest that Perry say Grace, so we can all start eating. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry enough to eat a small land mass!" he stated, smiling, as he gestured to his boss, and his friend, Perry White, to begin.

And so he did. Perry spoke simply, movingly, of the gift of friends, of trust, and of love, and everyone thanked whatever power they had faith in for the gifts of food and shelter, and the ability and opportunity to make a positive difference in the world.

As Clark looked around the tables (Lucy's kids and Jason were seated at the 'kids' table, along with Grampa Sam and Grandma Ella); he gazed at Perry, his boss and mentor; Richard, once rival now true friend; at Jimmy, his first and still best, friend since his first day in Metropolis; his mother, for who words could not the levels of his love and gratitude; Chloe, trusted friend and confidante since they were kids back in Smallville; and finally Lois.

The woman he loved. The woman who loved him right back.

Before he could start to get maudlin, however, Jason added to the "Amen's" as only a seven-year old could:

"Rub-A-Dub-Dub, thanks for the grub, Yay GOD!"

For just a second there was stunned silence. Then, as one, the entire group exploded in laughter. Digging in to his food, Jason looked at everyone, Lois, Clark, Perry in hysterics, and enjoyed the attention. At the same time, he couldn't help but think, _It wasn't_ that _funny_.

Over the next three months, life changed in very significant ways for Clark, Lois, Jimmy, and especially Jason.

During his meeting with Bruce, Alfred, and Lucious, shortly after he'd left Luthor's mansion with his two suitcases of cash, Clark had allowed Bruce to assume a partial role as financial advisor to Clark's new fortune. As that Christmas Eve Day had been a weekday, Bruce was able to make some moderate transactions on the Stock Exchange, not to mention some investments in some very promising new technologies that would prove quite lucrative in a short period of time. In short, not long after the New Year, Bruce had helped Clark parlay his initial investment of $18,000,000 into nearly $80,000,000. Half of that was donated to various charitable organizations, all of it anonymously. A number of them were organizations for children. There were groups that help the homeless; some went to AIDS organizations; more went to military veterans funds of varying kinds. A significant poprtion went into environmental concerns; and a healthy chunk went to funding grants for the arts and humanities. Animals were not forgotten, and a number of no-kill animal shelters, as well as other animal charities were given hefty grants. Portfolios were set aside for many of these concerns with capital that allowed for continued growth and funding.

Clark had taken Luthor's original $10,000,000 that was intended for charity, and expanded it, through smart investments and a certain amount of luck, to $40,000,000. He had done likewise with his own gift. As a result, he could do whatever he wanted, have whatever he wanted. Granted, it wasn't near what Trump or Oprah, or even The Governator out in California were worth, but for a farm boy from Krypton via Kansas, it suited Clark Kent just fine. But, from his point of view, it just wouldn't have been any fun to have all that money, if he didn't take his friends and loved-ones along for the ride.

As far as he was concerned, they'd earned it.

Since his return, Clark had been living in his old apartment at 344 Clinton Street. The building was an older brownstone, built in the late 1800's during a time when Metropolis, like New York, Gotham, and Chicago, were undergoing tremendous growth. The building was deep and narrow, and 8 stories tall. The current owner had been in possession of the building for about 40 years, and although he had done an admirable job of upkeep, advancing age was starting to take its toll on both structure and landlord. Clark knew there would be no better time, so he spoke to the owner, and within less than a month, Clark Kent had become the new owner of the historic brownstone apartment building. During the previous month, he had also bought-out his mother's farm, with the proviso that she could live there the rest of her life if she wanted, or she could go to Montana with her boyfriend Ben Hubbard, or any combination thereof. Clark simply couldn't bear the thought of strangers living in his boyhood home, and he also felt it would do Jason and Lois a great deal of good to have a place in the solitude of the countryside, where Jason could develop his powers in relative anonymity, just as Clark himself had done.

Clark had also extended to Jimmy an invitation (almost a request, really) to take over the largest ground-floor unit in the building, and allowed Jimmy to stay there, rent-free, as long as the young photojournalist kept up the building with the help of an as-yet-to-be-hired super, and as long as he paid his own utilities. The next three floors were taken up by residences for Richard and Chloe whenever they were in town from D.C., and an apartment for Clark's mom for her visits to Metropolis, which were starting to grow more frequent. That floor also had some guest flats. The top two floors were taken over by Lois and Clark, and of course Jason. They had actually knocked down the walls between two adjoining units to create one large suite of living space. The roof of the building was covered in a lush garden and patio area, along with a number of liquid solar panels for heating water, and photovoltaic panels and a few small wind turbines to help offset the utility bills. One important feature for Clark was a rooftop access door that allowed Superman relatively covert take-offs and landings. There was also a modest backyard, which Jimmy, Richard, and Clark, over the span of one weekend, made into a totally private green space by surrounding the entire yard with a 12 foot metal-paneled wall, and topping that with three-foot wide, eight-foot long glass panels which were cantilevered inward so that any pet cats in the yard could not climb or jump out, as well as deterring any kids (or adults) from climbing into the yard from the adjoining alley.

Clark didn't do this just to be altruistic. There was actually a practical aspect to such an arrangement: if either Lois or Clark were too busy or too tired to drive (or fly) all the way around (or over) Hobb's Bay to the Riverside Drive house, they could simply come home to Clinton Street. Jimmy was there as a permanent resident, which meant that the person holding down the fort was someone they could trust. It also meant that, in the event of a breaking story or situation in the city, they'd be at least twenty minutes closer than Riverside, and within blocks of the action. Clark also knew Jimmy well enough to know that the young man was the type of creative individual that would likely never want to come out from behind the camera and take a job managing a desk, no matter how lucrative. The job of a typical newspaper photographer was not one that you could easily afford a family or much of a life, especially as one got older. It was, simply, a job for the young, or those who were willing to be sharing a flat with roommates for the rest of one's life. This way, Jimmy could keep his career as a shooter while never having to worry about his future, and he was not pressured into a potentially unstable living situation. Lois liked the arrangement not only because it put her near her loved ones more often, but it also kept her in town, and therefore in touch with the events in the community and closer to breaking news. She liked the Riverside house, no doubt about it, but she truly did miss living in the midst of the hubbub of the most energetic, vibrant city in the world. This way, she had the best of all worlds.

Finally, for Clark, it took the pressure off of constantly having to hide his real identity. This way, he didn't have to answer questions from nosy neighbors or an overly-inquisitive doorman. Actually, the building didn't have a doorman. Clark, with some help from Wayne Enterprises, put in double-door vestibule entryways, and special biometric and password-protected door locks. Yet, with all its security measures, 344 Clinton Street was hardly a fortress of solitude. Everyone of Clark's "extended family" as he thought of them was gregarious and talented, intelligent, and simply just plain fun to be around.

The building would, over the next decades, come to host many parties, guests, loved-ones, and little-by-little, the growing families of both The Kents and The Whites, not to mention a long-term relationship between Jimmy and an incredibly attractive African immigrant who had joined _The Planet'_s International section. The man was, simply put, massive. He was not fat, but rather was muscular, tall, and charismatic, and Jimmy had fallen hard for him. Fortunately for Jimmy, the man, whose name was Cuthbert, had felt the same way.

But, for the months leading up to Lois and Clark's wedding, the time had been a whirlwind of assignments, reconstruction, babysitting, and the many myriad daily choices and moments that most other families dealt with. Jason was nearing completion of the Second Grade; Lois had become pregnant with her (and Clark's) second child; and Clark's new cat, aptly named Buick, had become a regular fixture on all floors of the building, the sunnier portion of the grassy back yard being her favorite spot. Clark and Jimmy turned half of one entire floor into a giant, museum-quality H.O. scale model railroad, based on the Santa Fe and Southern Pacific routes through California's Cajon Pass, complete with custom-painted surrounding backdrop and computer-controlled 24-hour sunlight and moonlight simulators. The other half they converted into a complete gymnasium, including weight room, Jacuzzi, steam room, and sauna. Clark had also changed one apartment at the rear of the top floor into a complete video-and wire-service information center. LCD screens dominated the room, along with printers, fax machines, weather instruments, DDR recorders for the video feeds, and even a number of old-fashioned, drum-type seismographs that were wired-in to data coming from stations placed around the world, courtesy of Cal Tech and the U.S.G.S. This was where Superman could both monitor and record worldwide events as they happened in real-time. Another large apartment space near the rear, on the second floor, was gutted and turned into a big, luxurious, private motion picture theater complete with twin 35mm movie projectors on changeover systems, as well as the latest HiDef digital video projectors and high-end video editing computers. That way, they could enjoy movies with their friends in peace, and if Superman should need to duck out, he wouldn't have to fight a crowd or make up lame excuses for leaving suddenly.

As they sat on the rooftop one pleasant spring evening shortly before their wedding, Lois, Clark, Jason, Jimmy, and Perry sipped glasses of wine (Jason had an orange juice) and chatted as only old friends can about the many changes in their lives, and the world they knew. Clark seemed to be more relaxed than anyone had ever seen him. Lois was enjoying the colors in the western sky, while Perry absently stroked Buick's long fur as the cat tried to burrow deeper into the old man's lap. Jimmy was quietly fiddling with a new camera he had just picked up the week prior.

"Got a call from mom and Ben in Montana today," Clark reported quietly. "They said to say 'Hi' to everyone."

The others murmured their responses in a pleasant chorus. After a moment of silence broken only by a horn honking on the streets far below, Jimmy suddenly remembered the object in his backpack, which was on the floor next to his chair.

"Oh, hey! I almost forgot. I wanted to do a special screening tonight for all of us. It's a preview disk of a certain highly-anticipated Spielberg film that won't be out for another month or so." Jimmy waggled his eyebrows, enjoying his little surprise.

Clark, Lois, and Perry all looked expectantly at him. Finally, it was (of course) Lois who broke the silence with the question they all wanted to ask:

"Okay, so, what is it?" she demanded.

Slowly drawing-out the moment, Jimmy Olsen reached into his backpack, and with a dramatic flourish, pulled out…

"Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of The Crystal Skull!" he stated triumphantly.

"Well, what are you all sitting around about for?" Perry bellowed. "Move! Fire-up that theater!"

"What he said," Clark chimed-in.

As they all rose from their seats and started for the access door to the stairs that wound down into the heart of the building, Clark suddenly froze, the old familiar look crossing his face as he listened to sounds only he (and Jason) could hear. "Oh-oh. That sounds big. You guys better get started without me." He stepped back a pace, and began his now-familiar whirl-into-The-Suit, while simultaneously saying, "This looks like a job for…"

He came to a stop. Superman stood before them, in all his glory, and finished his sentence… "me!"

Before he could lift off, however, Perry grabbed Jimmy's new camera and handed it to Clark. "Bring me back some art for tomorrow's edition," he ordered.

Superman looked at the camera in his massive hand, then back at his boss. "I'm a superhero, Perry, not a paparazzi," he retorted.

Not intimidated in the least, Perry barked back, "Well it's either that or you airlift Olsen here with you," he countered.

Looking completely flummoxed, Superman looked at his fiancé. Lois simply shrugged.

Knowing he wasn't likely to win this one without wasting precious response time, Superman finally let out a sigh and hung the camera on its strap from his shoulder. As he lifted off of the roof, he said, "You're the boss, Chief."

Perry pointed at his primary-colored retreating form. "You'd better believe it, Kent! And, for the last time, DON'T CALL ME 'CHIEF!'"

As they all watched the world's greatest superhero, and their best friend, disappear into the sky, they could just make out the faint shouts from the street below, as first one person, then several, and finally everyone on the street picked-up the familiar chorus:

"Look… up in the sky! It's a bird… _it's a plane_… _**it's**_ _**Superman!**_"

Looking down past the railing, toward the street and the humanity below, Perry White could only mutter, "If you only knew. If you only knew."

**THE END**

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